


Legacy

by SkylaDoragono



Series: Legacy [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mild Horror, Skywalker Family Drama, Skywalker Family Feels, war time violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-05-08 21:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 170,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14702220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylaDoragono/pseuds/SkylaDoragono
Summary: A chance meeting between a Dark Lord and an unexpected stowaway changes the course of the Galaxy in ways no one could have foreseen.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Наследие](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15791439) by [saracenic_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saracenic_cat/pseuds/saracenic_cat)



The moment Luke had first seen Darth Vader was one he would never forget.

He was young, young and headstrong and riding high on the adrenaline that came from escaping from the homestead with no one knowing. Leaving the safety of civilization in the dead of night on Tatooine was a terrifying gamble; if the cold of the desert did not freeze your bones, than any number of creatures — intelligent or otherwise — could end your life frighteningly fast. But the journey to Anchorhead was one he could make in his sleep, and whether by luck or by chance, he made it without encountering anything that could cut his adventure short.

Once there, the only issue he could see was finding a ship; Anchorhead was a small port, often overlooked by pilots in favor for bigger cities, such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. Fortunately, there seemed to be at least one ship in dock, with men in uniforms entering and exiting, loading up boxes of unmarked cargo. Luke hunched behind a box and waited, watching the bored and tired guards turn their gaze elsewhere and the workers become sparse, before he darted forward, his small stature allowing him to easily slip inside. His heart pounded as he forced himself as far into the back of the cargo hold he could squeeze himself into, ducking down and barely daring to breathe as work continued in front of him, the sounds of booted feet on metal coming and going.

It felt like ages before a familiar sounding _hum_ ran through the ship, and Luke’s heart soared in excitement as he felt a familiar tug in his gut as the ship lifted off. He’d done it; he had stowed away on a ship! But his elation was short lived, as soon — far _too_ soon — he felt the shudder of the ship landing, and the wonderful hum of the engine died away. Luke almost groaned out loud, thumping his head against his knees; he _would_ have the kind of luck to accidentally sneak onto a ship that was only going to another area of the planet!

But it was worse than that — of course it was so much worse than that. He could hear the sound of boots on the metal deck again, and he dared to hazard a peek around the container he was hiding behind, spying the familiar stark white armor of an Imperial Stormtrooper. Luke strangled back a gasp, pressing himself as far into his hiding place as he could. He should have been more careful! Sure, the ultimate goal was to make it to one of the Imperial Academies out there so he could become a pilot, but he doubted getting caught stowing away on an Imperial ship for that purpose would do him any favors.

Of course things had to get even worse; the sounds of all the feet stomping around on the metal floor suddenly stopped with a loud _snap,_ and Luke could almost imagine the men that owned those feet all coming to attention at once. The silence that followed was unnerving, and he found himself fighting against the urge to squirm as some kind of tingling cold started to creep up his spine. Mechanical breathing, loud and raspy in the small space, suddenly choked off the silence, making the cold turn into a sudden, _intense_ feeling of fear.

“I sense something…” a deep voice boomed, making Luke scoot further back into his spot, until his back and side was squished up against the far wall. Heavy foot falls approached, sounding more like they belonged to a droid than a person. It did not really matter what the sounded like; Luke _knew_ they were coming right for him, like the owner knew where he was. He found himself squeezing his eyes shut, silently pleading for whomever this was to _go away,_ that all he wanted to do was be a pilot and to please, please go _away._

“Leave,” that deep voice commanded. Footsteps started as one as the stormtroopers left the ship, leaving him alone with the sound of that breathing in the cargo hold.

“Reveal yourself, would be pilot,” that voice rumbled, and Luke felt his breath freeze in his chest. What…? How…?

Tentatively, he reached up, his small hands grasping the container he was hiding behind, before hauling himself up enough to peer over the top. It was like a living shadow was standing not a few feet before him, massive and looming, and taking up all possible ways he could escape. Luke swallowed hard, yet despite the cold latching onto the pit of his gut, he found himself less afraid and more curious than anything. Hesitantly, he stood up straight, blue eyes wide and feeling incredibly tiny in the face of the masked man’s incredible height.

“You are aware there are _proper_ methods to achieving passage off world, are you not?” the man rumbled, though Luke could swear there was a hint of humor in his voice.

“I couldn’t do that,” he replied softly. “My uncle wouldn’t let me leave. This was the only thing I could think to do, sir.”

The man inclined his masked head, an almost contemplative gesture.

“How old are you, young one?”

“Eleven standard, sir.”

An extra layer of sound came from the man’s breathing, and he suspected he may have let out a sigh that his vocoder could not translate properly. Luke swallowed hard, getting the feeling that he was about to be tossed out, or worse, _spaced._ He rounded the container, trying to make himself taller than he really was.

“Uncle Owen doesn’t get it, sir!” he pressed. “I’m not a moisture farmer! I have no place on Tatooine! I’m too good of a pilot to just tend vaporators all day!”

The man just stood there, weathering his exclamations, unmoving, and for a moment, Luke feared that his outburst may have been too much. Finally, after way too long of staring at him, the man shifted his stance, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“What is your name, young one?”

Luke hesitated a moment, an uncertain feeling rising in his chest he could not put a name to.

“Luke Skywalker, sir.”

Everything in the room suddenly stopped, giving Luke the impression he had said something wrong. He could feel that icy cold again, crawling up his spine and worming its way into his head, and he grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. The ice retreated, but the feeling of something in his head remained, poking curiously, as if trying to make sure he had not been lying. Instinctively, he felt himself latching onto that invading feeling, like he would latch onto Aunt Beru’s hand while they were at market together. The feeling seemed to stop cold at that, before retreating.

“...you are the son of Anakin Skywalker.”

Luke’s heart immediately leapt into his throat at that, eyes impossibly wide.

“You knew my father, sir?”

Silence met his question, and for a moment, Luke was not sure he would respond.

“Yes… I knew him, once,” he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. After a moment, the man moved aside, beckoning to Luke with one of his giant hands, and he found his feet propelling him forward despite his nerves. Questions were on his lips, desperately wanting to know how this man knew his father, a mere navigator, but he held his tongue. Now was not the time to be spouting out questions, and instead he reached up, latching onto one of those mammoth hands as he was led off the ship, to where stormtroopers and a handful of officers were waiting. A few of them looked down, expressions of surprise at the tiny boy clinging to the giant’s hand, but no one dared to comment on it.

“Lieutenant, have a room prepared for our unexpected guest,” the man ordered, “and inform Admiral Montferrat we will be making an additional stop to Prefsbelt to drop him off.”

The officer bowed respectfully, acknowledging the order, though Luke hardly noticed. He was too busy turning a wide eyed, thankful stare to the man, knowing full well that the academy at Prefsbelt IV was one of the best for navy men, second only to the royal academy at Imperial Center. The man inclined his head toward him, silently acknowledging his gratitude, before giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“For the time being, stay by my side, young one.”

“Yes, sir.”

They started off, though Luke found himself looking everywhere at once as they made their way through the docking bay. There were so many ships, but his attention was drawn immediately to the TIE Fighters hanging on racks far above him. His heart soared in his chest as he took in the sleek, sharp lines of the flight panels. He was going to pilot one of those someday; he was sure of that now.

His excitement waned as they left the bay, heading down drab, nondescript halls, Luke’s tiny feet near running to keep up with the man’s long strides. That excitement picked right up again once they reached the bridge, and Luke squeezed his hand, mostly to keep himself from immediately running to the massive viewport at the end of the ramp that speared through the room. Once they stopped, however, he looked up to the giant shadow, his eyes silently asking if it was okay, and he got the distinct impression the man was smiling behind his mask as he let him go, giving him a gentle nudge toward the viewport. Luke shot forward immediately, latching onto the railing around the edge of the bridge in barely restrained _glee._

“M’lord,” a man behind him began, addressing the masked man. “We have made the necessary adjustments to our course. We will arrive at Prefsbelt in approximately oh-two hundred hours.”

“Good,” the tall man rumbled, “make the jump to lightspeed, Admiral.”

The admiral bowed, and Luke looked up as he felt the tall man come up beside him.

“‘My lord’?” he asked curiously.

He inclined his head in a way that Luke was starting to interpret as the giant’s way of looking curiously at someone. It made him seem that much more human, despite that terrifying mask.

“It is the proper way to address a Dark Lord of the Sith,” he explained. “‘Lord Vader’ is also acceptable.”

Luke nodded slowly in understanding, piecing together that ‘Vader’ was the giant man’s name, and also royalty of a kind he did not quite understand. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like; people did not use words like ‘lord’ unless they were royal, right?

“I’m sorry if I was disrespectful then; I didn’t know.”

It was strange; despite the mask, he could almost see a kind face, smiling softly at him. He wanted so much to ask why he wore that mask if he had such a nice face underneath, but he held himself back, especially as the giant — Lord Vader — rested a hand on his shoulder, turning his attention back to the viewport. Luke stood up on the tips of his toes, clinging tight to the railing as he took in the sight of them being surrounded by stars, leaving the faintly glowing Tatooine far below them.

“This is my favorite spot to stand, young one,” Vader said, his voice soft over the sound of his breathing. “Watch.”

Luke stared out at the view of space, his excitement building as the stars around them began to elongate, stretching to impossible lengths, before they burst into a colorful whirl of light, speeding him far away from the only home he had ever known.

 ~.oOOo.~

Vader continued to remain in Luke’s company, even after the guest room that had been prepared for him was ready. It made him a little nervous, made him question why this giant lord so interested in him. That nervousness lasted as long as it took him to realize that the Dark Lord was willing to answer his questions; then what followed could only be considered a tidal wave of curiosity. He asked him everything, about what kind of ships the Empire had to questions about the Lord himself, though those only received half answers. That did not deter Luke, and it was a long moment before he finally paused for a breath.

“Tell me of yourself, young one,” Vader sniped the opportunity to steer the conversation the way he wanted, and Luke slumped a little, picking at his tunic.

“There’s not much to tell,” he mumbled. “I’ve been stuck on the farm my whole life until now. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru have looked out for me, but they just don’t get how much I didn’t belong.”

Vader paused, a cant to his head, like he perfectly understood what he meant by that.

“...and what do you know of your parents?”

The question took Luke aback, and he hesitated. Something screamed in the back of his mind, yelling at him not to answer, but he shook his head. The giant had been nice to him so far; what was the worst that could happen?

“Mama died when I was born,” he finally said softly. “That’s all anyone has been able to tell me about her. Father died when the spice ship he was serving as navigator on had engine trouble…”

Luke trailed off, noticing Vader’s hands were clenched into fists, and the temperature in the room noticeably dipped. Something in the room started rattling, before there was a loud _POP_ and the sound of something clattering to the ground. Luke yelped at the noise, his head whipping around to find what made it.

“Anakin Skywalker was no mere navigator, young one,” Vader finally spoke, his low tone dragging Luke’s attention back. “He was a fearsome warrior, and a heroic general renowned in the Old Republic.”

Luke’s eyes widened as he took that in, his mind reeling. His father was a hero…?

“Did… did you know him well, my lord?”

The temperature in the room returned to normal as Vader watched Luke shuffle closer. He was hanging on his every word, hugging his near threadbare bag of meager belongings to his chest, and looking like he was forgetting to breathe.

“I did, yes,” he finally answered. “There are still some within the Empire that fought alongside your father in the Clone Wars. He was the best pilot in the fleet; it seems you are quite like him, young one.”

Luke beamed like he was a star going supernova, excited about having a connection to the father he never got to know.  His mood soon died, a hesitant look coming to his face.

“Did… you know my mother, too?”

A stillness permeated the air, much in the same way it had when he told the Dark Lord his name, and Vader was so still and so quiet despite the breath mask, that Luke _knew_ he had made a mistake. He was about to tell him that it was fine, he did not need to know, but the words died in his throat before he could get them out, his gaze locked on Vader as he spoke again.

“Her name was Padmé Amidala,” he intoned softly, almost reverently. “Once one of the elected Queens of Naboo, then senator in the Old Republic. She was a brave, kind soul loved by her people and fiercely loyal to her ideals.”

For a moment, Luke could only stare, the solemnity of the room permeating his body right down to his bones. It was not until he felt his face get wet that he turned away, scrubbing at it with a sleeve.

“Thank you for telling me, Lord Vader,” he finally managed to get out. “I’m glad I met you.”

Vader did not respond, though Luke got the impression he did not get told that often. He did turn toward the chronometer on the far wall after a moment, hooking his fingers into his belt.

“We will be arriving soon,” he announced. “Will you be ready?”

It took him a moment, furiously scrubbing away the last vestiges of tears, before Luke sprung to his feet. Determination shown on his face as he clutched his bag, feeling the hard edges of his precious model T-16 inside. He peered up at Vader for a moment, hesitating, before blurting out what he wanted to ask before he lost his nerve.

“Will you keep in touch?”

Vader inclined his head toward him, and there was a distinct note of amusement in his voice as he answered:

“As often as I am able, young one.”


	2. Graduation

Normally, there was only one thing that could pull Darth Vader away from the Imperial Fleet. His master’s summons was something that no one could ignore, not even him, despite his… _issues_ with the Emperor as of late, issues he kept well guarded and to himself. Today had nothing to do with the ancient man, and everything to do with what started those issues; today Vader’s attention was reserved solely for the graduation ceremony of one very gifted, very special young man.

Eight years had passed since he had last seen Luke, and while their conversations had been frequent in that time, they had needed to remain audio only for a number of reasons. Technically, the location of the Academy at Prefsbelt IV was top secret, as was just about anything he did; but also there was that background fear that if anyone intercepted his transmission and _saw him…_ No; it was better that he heard instead of saw the boy grow up, never mind he had no idea what to expect. Would he have his father’s strong presence? His mother’s kind eyes? Would he have been injured during training, or in one of the many, _many_ troublesome escapades he had participated in, a lesson learned leaving its mark on him? He did not know, and he found himself foolishly impatient with his own flying as he shuttled down to the Academy grounds.

His impatience loomed around him like a cloud as he disembarked, tangible enough to make the ground crews tending to the shuttle nervous. They went ignored as his long strides had him crossing the outer landing pad in record time, barely even acknowledging the director near the entrance. She bowed to him as he approached, and he was quick to dismiss the formality with a wave of his hand, continuing without breaking stride and leaving her scurrying to catch up with him.

“Lord Vader, you honor us with your presence,” she began, clutching a data pad to her chest that was near constantly beeping with reminders and messages. “The graduates will never forget this.”

“There is only one graduate I am interested in, Madam Director,” Vader replied, finally stopping and turning to her as they entered a large maintenance hanger. She stopped short, face paling as she stiffened, and Vader did not need the Force to know that something was wrong. She was saved from his questions as a student passed by, and her hand snapped out, latching onto the young man’s arm.

“Cadet Windsor, _please_ tell me you’ve seen Cadet Skywalker today?”

Ah, that was the problem; Vader raised a bemused eyebrow behind his mask as the cadet shrugged, unperturbed.  Apparently, this was a common occurrence.

“Haven’t seen him since morning mess,” he replied, turning and gesturing to the end of the room, where the hanger opened up to the outside. “Follow the trail of engine grease; he’s probably at the end of it.”

The cadet turned, giving Vader a polite bow, before continuing on his way. The director let out a stressed noise, mouth open to say something, but he cut her off impatiently.

“I am capable of locating one errant graduate, director,” he said dismissively, waving to the still beeping data pad. “You have a ceremony to prepare for, do you not?”

She was fumbling for some way to respond as he turned away from her, already heading in the direction the young man had indicated. His long strides took him quickly through the hanger, though that did not keep him from being noticed, with more than a few cadets learning how to make field repairs looking up from their work as he passed. Whispers of who he was and what he could be there for trailed in his wake, though he paid it no mind as he stepped out into the sunlight. The grounds in this area was sparsely populated, and it made finding an actual trail of engine grease easy to spot. He may well would have laughed if his vocoder could process the sound correctly, memories threatening to bubble to the surface of his thoughts as he followed the trail off to a dusty, barely paved path.

After a short time down that path, the physical trail veered off into the grass, disappearing into the tree line, and the Force took over. The boy’s presence was _strong_ here, not just from years of using this place as his refuge, but also his very being was strong, much stronger than it had been when he was a child. It made Vader pause, something like worry invading his mind. Luke was a bright spot in the Galaxy; from the moment they met, he had only to think of the boy, and he could feel his warm light, but just how powerful that light could be had never really occurred to him until that moment. If the Emperor knew…

No; the Emperor would never know. He would make certain of that.

He continued into the grass, past some trees, and quickly came out into a small clearing. An old wreck of a drag speeder sat there, much like the kind he would skirt his duties and training to race when he was a teen. It was patched up in several places and in sore need of a paint job, but at the very least seemed usable on the outside. Tools were scattered about, along with various parts for the engine, and a black astrodroid trundled about, beeping in a low baritone. Vader knew of the droid, of course; Luke was fifteen when he said he found the droid’s remains in the husk of an old, Clone Wars era downed fighter outside the Academy grounds. Often times when he called, Luke would be working on him, essentially rebuilding him from scrap, until one day his calls were joined with the occasional low beep from the droid, and Luke shyly admitted he had designated him as DV-2.

Now the droid that bore his namesake paused his work, swiveling his head toward him, his sensor light flicking various colors, almost seeming like he was regarding Vader coolly.

“Deevee?” a voice came from under the speeder, and it was then that Vader spotted the legs sticking out from underneath.  A hand came out soon after, fumbling for a hydrospanner that was just out of reach. Just as Vader thought to nudge it closer to him, the tool started to wiggle, before rolling toward the questing hand on its own.

The boy did not seem to notice, grabbing the tool before continuing, “What were you saying?”

DV regarded him for a moment more, before swiveling his head toward the speeder, beeping low.

“A guest? Wha—?”

“I hope you don’t intend to bring this with you after graduation, young one,” Vader finally spoke up.

A yelp came from under the speeder, followed by a _clang_ as the young man hit his head. Vader found himself shaking his head in amusement, wondering just how deep into repairs the boy had been not to _hear him_ before speaking, watching as he scrambled out from underneath. He sat up, holding his head as he stared up at Vader, blue eyes wide as a slow, delighted smile came to his face. He was climbing to his feet in the next moment, barely managing to contain his excitement as he bowed.

“It’s good to finally see you again, Lord Vader,” Luke said, happiness exuding from his voice.

Vader found himself unable to speak. In the eight years since he had seen him last, the boy had grown into a fine young man. His hair was short, as per regulation, and had lost much of the sun bleached look to it, instead becoming more of a sandy blonde. He was a bit wiry and still short — it seemed he suffered from his mother’s lack of height — but he held himself tall and with the confidence of a skilled pilot. A smudge of grease was smeared on his face, which had lost much of its roundness, yet still appeared soft and youthful. He was so much his mother’s image, yet so much his father’s as well.

Vader could feel his heart ache, the same way it had when he dropped the boy off.

“You’ve grown, young one,” he finally managed to get out, almost flinching at the tenderness in his voice. But how could he help himself? The boy was everything he had lost, everything he never thought he could have, in one form. His show of weakness did not seem to matter; Luke was beaming at his words, barely able to hold himself still in his excitement.  

“Well, it’s been awhile,” he replied, a hint of teasing coming to his voice. “I couldn’t stay a kid forever.”

“No, I do not believe the staff could withstand the terror you’ve wrought,” Vader replied, humor in his voice as Luke folded his hands behind his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve behaved!”

“You are a very poor liar, young one.”

A pout came to Luke’s face, betraying his nineteen years. It was quick to dissolve back into a grin, however.

“Have you seen my scores?” he asked excitedly. “Best in exams _and_ practical tests! People will be fighting to beat my record for _years!”_

Vader smiled behind his mask. Of course he had seen the boy’s scores. Of course they were exceptional; he expected nothing less. That still did not keep him from wagging a finger in his face, reprimanding his arrogance.

“Tests are one thing,” he reminded him. “An actual battle is more of a test than anything this Academy has to offer.”

Vader did not know what reaction to expect, but seeing Luke’s expression immediately sour was not it. He cocked his head curiously as the boy stepped back, leaning against the speeder as he folded his arms defensively.

“Bring it on. I’m ready for anything.”

Vader paused, taking in the conflicting emotions the boy was feeling through the Force. That was more than just a teenager’s reaction to being scolded, more even than what his words implied.

“What troubles you, young one?”

Luke glanced up at him, and for a moment, Vader could feel those warring thoughts of his withdraw. For a moment, it seemed as if he would dismiss it, tell him not to worry about it, but he stopped himself. Instead he let out a sigh, letting his arms fall into his lap.

“...an old friend of mine from Tatooine was here recently,” he explained glumly. “He took a shipman’s position so he could graduate early and avoid being drafted, but he planned to skip out on that and join a Rebel group.”

Ah yes, the misguided fools of the so called Rebellion. They were minor groups, some disorganized, some sloppy, but there were enough guerrilla fighters and competent cells to be a thorn in the side of the Empire. Yet still, he could sense there was more to Luke’s feelings than this.

“And you wished to join him?”

Luke shook his head immediately. “I don’t support the Rebellion,” he replied, “but I don’t completely hate it. They have _some_ good points, but I just…”

He trailed off, ducking his head as a sheepish look came to his face.

“I just don’t think the Empire’s as evil as they claim it is, when it’s got you as second in command.”

Vader did not need the Force to feel the sincerity in Luke’s words. He shifted, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“Perhaps you are giving me too much credit.”

Luke shook his head, a sharp edge coming to his voice.

“No way. If you were really so evil, you would have spaced me the moment you saw me,” he replied, his tone leaving little room for argument. “I’ve heard the stories, of you executing officers for incompetence on the spot. I know what you do, or at least, I have an idea. You’re tough, the toughest commanding officer in the fleet, but you’re fair, and you don’t expect anyone to do something you wouldn’t do yourself.”

Vader remained quiet as Luke turned his gaze up to him again, a fire in his eyes he had seen countless times before, and he had to remind himself that the boy’s eyes were blue and not brown.

“I’ve been training here every day with that in mind,” he continued. “I know what I’m getting into, and I wouldn’t want to serve under anyone else.”

Vader let out a contemplative noise that his vocoder struggled to interpret, folding his arms over his chest. Silence fell between them as he regarded Luke, as if determining for himself just how strong the boy’s resolve was. Finally, he shifted his stance, reaching into his robes for a small data disc he had secreted away.

“Fortunately, you won’t have to serve under someone else, young one,” he announced, offering the disc to him.

Luke’s eyes widened, and he fumbled to pull out a small hand reader from one of the pouches on his belt before careful accepting the disc, like he was handling something fragile. Information popped up on the display as soon as he slid the disc in, and in that moment, Luke looked like he forgot him to breathe.

“Black Squadron…” he whispered, reverence hanging on every syllable as he looked over his draft information.

“I would only want the best pilot to ever grace these Academy grounds on my personal flight team.”

Luke looked up at him, wonder and happiness and a deep respect all over his face. He stood up again, bowing deeply in his gratitude.

“I won’t let you down, my lord.”

A low boop came from behind them, and Luke straightened a little, glancing back toward his droid. The astromech turned his angular head, his sensor light flicking over to a deeper blue than usual, as if to indicate his mood.

“Um… what about Deevee?”

Vader glanced over at the droid, a fond smile coming to his face. It made him wonder whatever became of a certain other droid that used to be his own companion…

“I see no point in leaving him behind,” he mused. “A droid will be an asset on a flight team.”

The smile returned to Luke’s face as DV booped happily, his sensor light returning to it usual sky blue.

“Thank you, Lord Vader.”

He almost wished the child could see just how much he had made him smile in this conversation alone, let alone the moments he had through the years. There was so much he wanted to say, to _do,_ but instead Vader just turned slightly, resting a hand on Luke’s shoulder.

“Now then, I believe you have a ceremony to get ready for.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke was fairly certain there was not a single Imperial uniform out there that he would find comfortable. Even after eight years, the Academy’s uniform still annoyingly chafed at his neck, and the dress uniform was even worse. He fidgeted as he stood in line, tugging uselessly at the collar as he waited for the moment he and his classmates would present themselves to the galaxy. He heard a frustrated noise come from behind him after a moment of his twitching, before he was elbowed in the back.

“Will you relax a little, Wormie? You’re starting to make _me_ nervous with all your twitching.”

Luke glanced back, scrunching his face up at the young man behind him. Like so many others, Teak Windsor was at least a head taller than him and fair skinned, with dark green eyes and black hair that still managed to look shaggy despite the military cut. He had been the first friend Luke had ever made at the Academy; his young age and the fact that it took very little time for everyone to find out he had been dropped off by Darth Vader himself led to most of the other students shying away from him. Teak, however, had heard the whispers about him the day he entered the school, walked right up to him, and said having Lord Vader’s interest made him the only awesome person in the Academy. They had been inseparable ever since, and Teak had even sat in on a few of his calls with the Dark Lord.

He was the one to point out he was being treated like a son, despite the usual Imperial formalities.

“I can’t help it, Teak,” he grumbled back at him. “I swear they make these collars tighter every year.”

“Well, get it out of your system now; you don’t want to be wriggling in front of the whole Empire.”

Luke grimaced, giving one last good tug on the collar, before giving up, letting his hand drop. The uniform was not the only problem bothering him at the moment; there was… something, a strange feeling at the edge of his consciousness that he could not put a name to. It was just a bad feeling, like something awful was going to happen, never mind he had no proof of anything being out of the ordinary.

“Uh oh,” Teak muttered behind him, “you have _that_ look on your face…”

Luke shot him another sour look, but he did not have the time to actually say anything. The line of students started marching forward then, and he needed to focus on keeping in step with everyone else. He did glance back just before they emerged on stage, however, his expression silently begging his best friend to stay close to him when things went _wrong._

They came out on stage to the tune of Imperial pomp and circumstance, the music nearly drowned out by the sound of cheers and the constant snapping of flashing cameras. Teak had not been exaggerating; it really seemed like half the galaxy was there, between relatives and friends, their younger classmates, and current in service military personnel. Luke definitely spotted Admiral Montferrat, whom he remembered from his brief stay on the _Devastator._ Admittedly, he was hard to miss; a battle had taken sight from his left eye, though he had refused a prosthetic, leaving his face scarred and the milky white eye in place. It just emphasized how much of a terrifying man he was, and had to be, given he was the admiral in charge of Vader’s flagship. Luke could not _wait_ to work under him either.

He came to a stop with the others, turning with military precision to face the crowd. Luke squinted against the flashing lights in his eyes, and though he wanted to, he refrained from looking over to where Lord Vader was. He knew where he was, of course; it was strange, but any time he thought of Vader, he could always _feel_ where he was. It scared him when he was younger, as Vader’s presence always felt like a shadow looming over him. Over time, however, he had come to recognize a warmth in that presence, one that he gladly wrapped himself in like a blanket on tough days, letting that warmth ease his heart.

He felt that warmth now, emanating from a viewing box close to the stage, and it helped Luke relax marginally. Yet as the ceremony wore on and the director droned endlessly about duty and responsibility, he felt his nerves slowly fraying out. This time, though, his nerves were magnified, and he just _knew_ that Vader was sharing in his unease.

It felt like forever before diplomas were handed out, but even as Luke accepted his and saluted, he felt that bad feeling continue to rise in his gut. Something was coming… no, something was already _here,_ but it was lying in wait, waiting for the opportunity to strike. He finally let his eyes dart over to where Vader was, silently pleading for it to be nothing, for everything to end without incident. He could only _feel_ Vader’s concern, wrapping around him like a protective barrier.

Another eternity passed before everyone had their papers, and the director was finally closing out the ceremony…

...and the stage they were standing on exploded.

~.oOOo.~

Screams erupted as civilians scrambled to get away from the exploding stage, while servicemen attempted to get _to_ it. All the while, debris in the form of wooden splinters and small chunks of duracrete rained down on the crowd, causing even more panic as people were hit. Vader barely paid it much notice, and probably would have stopped breathing if his respirator would have allowed it. His concern, as always, was on Luke; he had seen him grab the boy next to him before the both of them disappeared in the smoke and flames. His presence was still there — he could still feel him as vibrant as ever — but he could not _see_ him, could not tell if he had been injured or was pinned down by falling chunks of the stage.

Vader’s rage spiked, the ground trembling beneath his feet as the falling debris suddenly stopped, shifting off harmlessly away from the confused crowd. He was stalking out of the observation box in the next moment, the sound of blaster fire reaching his ears as he emerged.

_Rebels._

Not just any Rebels, if the look of them was anything to go by. Most Rebels had some semblance of uniforms among them, however haphazard and miss matched they were. These people were a hodgepodge of various dress, from finer clothes meant to blend in with the crowd to homespun nonsense that barely looked like it could hold together. These Rebels were nothing more than terrorists, and considering the sheer audacity of the attack, he suspected they were Saw Gerrera’s men, a realization that only made his blood boil more. Relics from the Clone Wars needed to be retired, and Saw and his idea of “justice” were no exception.

With a hiss, his lightsaber came to life in his hand, casting an angry red glare over his immediate area, and drawing the attention of those near him. Two of the men turned, the others smart enough to flee as their unfortunate companions opened fire. With a flick of his wrist, he reflected the blasts back at them, barely paying attention to their corpses hitting the ground as he caught up with their companions, cutting them down as well. Yet another errant fool that thought he could get the jump on him fell to his blade, before a warning from the Force had him turn again. Before he could get his lightsaber up to guard himself against the alien behind him, the man suddenly jerked, a blaster bolt opening up a hole in his head.

Vader turned once more, spotting Luke crouched low, his uniform a mess and half his face covered in blood, but still wielding the rifle he had taken from an enemy with expert precision, downing another Rebel without even flinching.  For a moment, it was hard for him to see anything other than the boy, a hard look on his face as he devoted his focus to sighting along the gun barrel, leading with the gun before picking off another target. It was a far cry from the warm smiles and the exuberance from before, and a reminder that Luke had not just spent eight years getting an education and running off to repair old droids and cobbled together speeders, but had also been training to be an Imperial pilot and soldier.

At his back was the boy he had protected when the stage exploded, shooting down the Rebels that were trying to come at them from behind.  Vader shifted when he realized they were holding their own well enough, swinging his lightsaber with ease and reflecting blaster fire back at the fools that were firing at them without even thinking about it.  There were not many left in the area by the time he felt it was safe enough to approach the two of them, with Luke picking off the last one in sight before the man even realized he was there.

“We’re all right, my lord,” Luke reported without prompting.  “I think the director is dead; the blast looked like it started directly under her.”

“And your classmates?”

“If they weren’t thrown off like we were, they’re likely also dead, my lord,” the other boy answered, and Vader recognized him as the cadet who had pointed Luke’s location out to him earlier.

Luke suddenly shifted, picking off a Rebel that had been trying to keep the gates into the standing area closed, isolating the chaos to the stage.  The gates opened up immediately after, and stormtroopers flooded in, assisting in gunning down or capturing what Rebels remained, as well as providing help to the civilians that were trying to get away.  It was not long after this that Admiral Montferrat made his way through the mess, an irritated scowl on his face as he approached Vader, briefly inclining his head as he stood rigid before him.

“Lord Vader, the _Devastator_ reports ships coming out of hyperspace,” he reported. “Freighters and snub fighters, m’lord.  They’ve already scrambled fighters, but more keep arriving.”

Vader was about to reply when he felt more than heard something move behind him.  He turned toward Luke to see he had stood up, a white knuckle grip on his purloined rifle and a hard look on his face.

“My lord, permission to gather those able here and join the fight.”

A protective urge spiked through Vader with such intensity that he did not know how to respond for a moment.  The boy already had a head injury; he had no business moving around, let alone flying a star fighter. Yet he could sense his fierce determination, mixed with the need to prove himself and an almost palpable need for revenge, and he knew even if he told him to stand down, he would try to fight anyway.  So much like his father at times…

“Gather whom you can, Skywalker,” he ordered.  “They will be your flight team. I want you lifting off in fifteen.”

Luke and Windsor saluted, acknowledging their orders, before starting off.  Montferrat let out a faint hum from behind him, sounding pleased.

“He’s grown into a fine soldier, my lord.”

Were it from anyone else, Vader would have ignored the comment.  But he had not been blind, and he knew that Luke suddenly appearing on the bridge, holding onto his hand like he had nothing to fear had caught the admiral’s curiosity.  Over the years, when Vader himself had not had the chance to request an update on Luke’s Academy career, he need only to look into the admiral’s own inquiries to know.

“So he has,” Vader replied, before he turned, motioning for Montferrat to follow him.

~.oOOo.~

As promised, Luke and Teak had gathered up those that could fly and were lifting off from the planet fifteen minutes later.  It was a bit of a sad lot, however; most of their graduating class were either dead or too injured to assist. They were only able to collect two others; the rest of their impromptu squadron were younger, fueled with the need to defend the Academy and avenge their fallen friends.

“Serpents, count off and fall in line,” Luke ordered as they broke through the lower atmosphere, the blue of the sky starting to fade off into black.  His squad reported in as ordered, falling in line behind him as they freed themselves from the planet’s gravity, coming up on the fight. At first, from the debris that they were passing, Luke thought they were going to be mostly doing cleanup, but as they got closer to the fight, it became clear that was not going to be the case.

There were more than enough snub fighters for them to make several sweeps through the battlefield and still have a significant amount left over. He recognized a few of them, particularly the large and slow bombers — Y-wings, they were called — and the much more nimble but practically ancient Z95 Headhunters. They were not much of a concern; Luke knew he could fly circles around just about anyone that tried to fly against him, and he was confident in his ability to guide his squadron to do the same. The real concern was the capital ships; big bulk cruisers and frigates that definitely looked like they had seen better days. Their looks did not keep their turbolasers from working, and they were trying to crowd down the _Devastator,_ giving Montferrat and his gunnery team a run for their money.

 _“Devastator,_ this is Serpent Leader,” Luke reported.  “My squad is ready to assist as promised.”

Montferrat’s voice responded immediately, “Acknowledged, Serpent Leader.  Engage at will; show these Rebels no mercy.”

“With pleasure, _Devastator,”_ he replied, a smile creeping onto his face as they got closer to where the Rebel fighters were already engaged with the Star Destroyer’s complement of TIE’s.  “Serpents, break the line and engage!”

It was an attack strategy he had come up with; with the rest of his squad filed behind him in a tight line, it made it difficult for both visual and instrumental confirmation on just how many people were following him, much like the Tusken Raiders of his homeworld when they attacked settlements.  Of course, it left him to draw the majority of the fire, but it made for easy pickings once the rest of his squad broke off. The Rebels were caught completely off guard by the tactic, a number of them falling to his squad’s fire.

Luke came around for another pass, Teak on his wing as he always was during tests.  This was not a test, though, and for a moment Luke was worried that the adrenaline from the attack below would run out; that fear and inexperience would override what they knew they had to do.  He gripped the controls of his Academy TIE Fighter, gritting his teeth; no, it was up to him to keep everyone focused. He did not study and train this long for nothing, and he was _not_ going to embarrass himself in front of the people he admired; and more than anything, he was not losing anyone else today.

“Serpents, pull in,” he ordered, eyeing the field.  “Sweep through; aim for the Corellian frigate that’s loading up.”

Silence met his order at first.

“Uh… Lead, you sure that’s wise?” Teak’s voice met his ears. “Shouldn’t we leave the big ship that could swat us for the other big ship _designed_ to shoot them down?”

Luke felt a smile creep up on his face. Teak Windsor: always the first to question him, always the first to follow behind him.

“Exactly; they’re not going to be able to keep us in their sights, and they won’t expect us. Now get to it!”

A chorus of copies followed, and he felt rather than saw his squad pull together, sweeping through the enemy fighters.  Some of the Rebels were picked off by the others, but their goal was to scatter the fighters in their way, breaking through to the frigate Luke had indicated, which was trying to pull in some of the snub fighters.  At his command, his squadron split off, sweeping about the frigate and pestering the ship like flies. Teak let out a woop of triumph as his shot took out the ship’s shields, allowing the others to start attacking the hull directly.  Angry red pockets of fire started to bloom through the metal as the lights on the ship started to flicker. Luke came around for one last pass, a shot to the engines starting a chain reaction that led to the ship exploding before escape pods could be launched.

They pulled together again, re-engaging the enemy snub fighters, but there were fewer ships now, and Luke could see a number of them fleeing into hyperspace.  A few of the frigates were attempting to run as well, but the _Devastator_ ’s turbolasers were picking them off before they could escape.  By the time Luke realized he had to struggle to find a target, most of the Rebels were dead or limping toward escape.

“Congratulations, gentlemen,” Montferrat’s voice came over the comm.  “Time to bring them home. Serpents, that includes you; you’ll need to do an official debrief.”

A strange feeling came over Luke, one he could not put a name to.  Relief maybe? He did not feel very relieved though; he felt like he was wound up tight and there was no way he could relax anytime soon.  He set the feeling aside, taking a deep breath; he could focus on it later, right now he needed to make a report.

“Acknowledged, _Devastator,”_ Luke replied.  “Serpents, you heard him.  Time to pack up.”

~.oOOo.~

Vader watched silently from an observation room as Luke and his pulled together squadron went through debrief. There was a hastily thrown on patch on his face, meant to stave off the blood without obstructing his vision and little else. The boy seemed not to be bothered by it, answering questions and giving his report with the clipped directness of military personnel with years more experience. It made the officer pause more than once, before he finally concluded the meeting, leaving the room.

Luke held himself together for as long as it took his squadron to filter out, the Windsor boy lingering, making sure he was okay before leaving. He managed to hold out for a few moments before he sagged into a seat, the stress from the last few hours finally catching up to him. He buried his face in his hands, shuddering as he took several deep breaths to calm himself. Vader entered the main room then, locking the doors with a wave of his hand and dimming the lights, affording Luke some privacy. He let out a grateful noise, rubbing stubbornly at his face, before looking up at him.

“There was no _point_ to that,” he said. “That’s not fighting for ‘freedom’ or ‘justice’. That was just pointless slaughter! How can Biggs just…!”

Luke trailed off, sinking dejectedly into his seat. By all means, Vader should have been encouraging the hate that was bubbling on the fringes of Luke’s consciousness, letting him aimed his untrained power at the Rebels as a whole. With the power that was simmering under the surface, it would barely require much effort on the boy’s part to stamp out the Rebellion, obliterate this ignorant friend of his, and… and then…

...then he saw Luke for Luke; saw his light and his kind heart, still vibrant despite eight years of Imperial conditioning, and he could not bring himself to do it.

“You’ll find there are many different Rebel cells, young one, each with different principles,” Vader explained. “This was an attack by Saw Gerrera’s faction, a left over from the Clone Wars. His tactics have always focused on causing as much devastation as possible, despite the possibility of civilian casualties.”

Luke was silent, but Vader could feel the _bitterness_ poisoning his mind, chased with the undeniable thirst for vengeance. It did not last long, however, and the boy sagged into the seat once more, emotionally spent. He reached up after a moment of silence, peeling the patch carefully from his face. With the blood out of the way, Vader could see a long gash from the center of his forehead to just under his cheek bone where debris had cut into the skin, but not so deep that his eye was affected. At this point, even with a proper bacta patch, it was likely to leave a scar.

Not unlike…

“You should rest, young one,” Vader said, though he knew it would not be well received. Sure enough, Luke frowned in response, absently folding the soiled patch in his hands.

“My lord, with your permission, I’d like to rejoin the others planetside,” he said. “I want to assist in the recovery efforts.”

Vader was silent for a long moment, before finally stepping forward, resting a heavy hand on Luke’s shoulder.

“...do not let yourself burn out, Luke.”

~.oOOo.~

It was a week before Luke found himself shuttling back up to the _Devastator,_ DV-2 on one side of him and Teak on the other. His mood was still grim, the memories of twisted and charred bodies he knew had names attached to them still fresh in his mind, but he did not feel as helpless as he did after the attack. If anything, his resolve to serve Lord Vader as the best damn pilot in the Empire was even stronger than before.

“Hey,” Teak began, nudging him out of his thoughts. “You gonna be alright?”

Luke let out a faint noise, a shade of embarrassment creeping onto his face as DV booped softly, nudging up against his leg.

“I’m okay,” he replied, only to earn himself a disbelieving look. _“Really._ I’m just anxious to meet the people we’ll be working with.”

To Luke’s relief, Teak had also been accepted into Black Squadron. He may have looked up to Darth Vader, maybe even idolized him, but being on the squad only knowing him was different — and much more terrifying — than having his best friend by his side.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Teak replied, a grin creeping onto his face. “If anyone gives you lip, just hop in the nearest fighter and fly circles around them.”

That finally got a smile out of Luke, and he nudged Teak playfully as DV let out an amused sounding boop.

The shuttle finally landed, and Luke let out a breath as he stepped out onto the _Devastator_ for the third time in his life, feeling like he was coming home. The docking bay was a flurry of activity, despite the lack of new recruits — maintenance workers were cleaning up still from the damage the ship suffered in the attack, and cargo crews were hard at work unloading much needed supplies. It was overwhelming to see it all, and Luke would have gotten lost in it if Teak had not grabbed his arm, helping steer him toward a deck officer.

“Sir, pilots Skywalker and Windsor reporting for duty,” Teak announced smartly once they were close. The man lifted his eyes from his datapad, giving them a look that screamed how much he did _not_ want to deal with green recruits today.

“Designations?”

Teak fumbled, looking very much like a fish out of water with the way his mouth was moving. Luke suppressed a smile as he spoke up, having already had a feeling his friend had not memorized his new number.

“FL-One-One-Three-Eight and Three-Nine respectively, sir,” he provided, motioning to himself first. The deck officer let out a noncommittal noise, scrolling through his list, before tapping a few times.

“Check in complete,” he announced. “Black Squadron ready room is down the hall to the first right, second door on the left. You’ll receive your uniforms, standing orders, and duty list for your droid there.”

Teak frowned at that. “Don’t we need to check in with our commanding officer first?”

The deck officer paused, lifting his eyes from the datapad and staring at Teak, trying to gauge if he was being serious. After Teak continued to give him an innocent look, the man let out a frustrated sigh.

“Pilot, your commanding officer is _Darth Vader,”_ he explained, like he was talking to a child. “He knew you were here the moment you stepped onto that shuttle.”

To his credit, Luke managed to stifle his laughter until they made it to the hallway.

“Oh lay off, Wormie,” Teak grumbled sullenly. “It was an honest question!”

Luke’s laughter subsided, and he tried to give his friend a reprimanding look, only to fail miserably, still too amused.

“Teak I swear, if one of the others hears you calling me that and it becomes my call sign, I will space you myself.”

The ready room was easy enough to find, and they entered to find it mostly empty, save for a single officer. The man glanced up as they entered, a thin smile coming to his face.

“Skywalker and Windsor, I presume?” he asked, receiving nods in answer. “Lieutenant Tanbris; I will be your ready officer.”

He handed them their new uniforms, explaining what was expected of them, where they were and were not allowed to go, what times they were considered off duty, and the like. The lecture concluded with Tanbris handing Luke a data disc for DV-2.

“Your request to handle memory wipes yourself was granted,” he informed him. “However, any errant behavior will force the staff to do it themselves.”

DV let out a faint boop, commenting that he knew how to behave himself. Luke smiled fondly, crouching down so he could insert the disc with his task schedule in the droid’s data slot. He beeped softly, his head swiveling around as he read the data, before letting Luke know he understood and needed to leave right away.

“Alright, go on,” Luke replied, patting his angular head. “Stay out of trouble.”

DV booped in response, a very clear, “You too, master,” before rolling off. Luke stood up straight, only to find himself staring at Teak’s wide grin.

“What?”

“You know what,” he replied, sounding a little smug. “You know out of anyone, you’ll get in trouble first.”

Luke shot him an annoyed look as Tanbris raised a bemused eyebrow. He waved them off, letting them go get changed. Teak picked up his teasing as soon as the door to the locker room closed behind them, that grin never leaving his face.

“So, how long you think it’ll be before everyone realizes you named the droid you built after Lord Vader?”

Luke’s expression turned sour, before locating his locker and waving his data cylinder at it. It immediately popped open, allowing him to toss in his few personal possessions — his model T-16 and a datareader — before he started to strip down to his undergarments.

“Don’t start, Teak,” he scolded him. “Mentor or not, you and I both know he won’t treat me any differently now that I’m in the Empire’s service.”

Teak let out a snort at that. “Maybe so, but I doubt it will take long before people realize he’s practically your dad.”

Luke shot him another annoyed look as he slipped into his new uniform, clasping the front of it closed securely before tugging at the collar. Yet another Imperial uniform that was obnoxiously uncomfortable; he did not know what he expected.


	3. Training

The coming days found Luke and Teak nose deep in patrols, training drills, and simulator combat, to the point that once they were off duty, the two of them barely had a snarky word for each other before collapsing into their bunks.  Service life was much stricter, much harsher than either of them had imagined, and there were times where Teak waned and struggled to keep up with the rigorous pace. Luke, however, used his bone deep exhaustion as fuel for his determination to be the best pilot in the Empire.  His patrols were executed flawlessly, paperwork immaculate and handed in with time to spare, and not a single member of the squad had been able to keep up with him in the simulators.

Except for one.

The training sims were ready and waiting for them to finish the pre-training lecture the day that Darth Vader strode into the hall.  Luke had sensed him before the others even knew the Dark Lord was there, and was the first to turn and stand at attention. Vader paused before them, regarding them all coolly once they were all assembled before him, his mask hiding who exactly he was looking at.  Luke could not shake the feeling that his gaze lingered on him the longest, and he felt a familiar knot of cold settle at the base of his spine.

“I will be your target today, gentlemen,” he finally announced, and that cold feeling suddenly shot up Luke’s back, making his heart pound loudly in his ears.  A dogfight, just against Vader? Did they even stand a chance?

More importantly, could he fire on the man he respected?

Luke was still struggling with the answer to that question as he stepped into the sim pod, nerves flaring for the first time in ages.  He took a deep breath as the program booted, holding it before letting it out slowly, finally finding his answer as he did so. If Vader was going to test them as an adversary, then he could treat him as one.  He  _ had  _ to do this!

The cockpit came to life then, and both his HUD and visual display showed what he expected to see: the twelve of them against one, solitary fighter.  The odds were  _ not  _ in their favor despite the numbers, but Black One — a gruff, brick of a man that only introduced himself as Mauler, and served as lead when Vader was not commanding the squad — acted like they did have the upper hand.  It left Luke confused for a moment; was that false bravado in order to keep their spirits up, or was he trying to trick them into letting their guard down?

Either way, things ended up going more or less like Luke expected.  Vader was a  _ beast  _ in the cockpit, and he made short work of half the squad in a matter of minutes.  Teak was one of the first to be picked off, which Luke was sure he would hear about later.  After the ten minute mark, there were four of them left, then three, and then it was just him and Mauler.

“Black Five, circle ‘round,” he heard him order.  “Lead him right to me.”

That was not going to work; against a normal pilot, maybe, but Vader was no normal pilot.  Still, he acknowledged the order, looping around as instructed. Vader seemed to pick up that he was being used to herd him along, and dove right after him, hot on his trail.  Luke found himself surprisingly calm as he ducked and weaved, luring Vader toward Black One instead. He saw his superior adjust his flight path to compensate, but then Vader’s attention suddenly shifted along with his ship, annihilating Mauler’s with embarrassing ease.

Luke brought his ship around, coming to a pause as Vader did the same.  It was almost like a standoff, like they were sizing each other up, before they both exploded into motion.  Neither of them bothered to take a potshot at the other, knowing the brief distraction from firing would do more harm than good.  As Luke maneuvered, though, he could feel it; the familiar sense of his consciousness expanding, sensing out everything around him.  It happened almost every time he flew, and while the first time had terrified him, he had since grown accustomed to it — welcomed it even, because it always made the feeling of Vader’s warm shadow ever more present to him.

He could definitely feel his presence now, a deep rush of darkness that settled over him like a gentle blanket, despite the fact that they were trying to kill each other in a virtual environment.  With him so close, he could feel more than just his warmth; he picked up his steely determination to win, as well as fierce pride directed at Luke that caught him slightly off guard. There was more than that, however; a complicated web of thoughts and emotions that he could not put a name to, and did not have the time to try.

The sound of laser fire snapped his focus back into place, and he rolled his ship on instinct, just barely missing death by centimeters.  He grit his teeth, feeling his consciousness becoming one with his surroundings again as he flew, anticipating and dancing out of Vader’s sights with all the ease of taking a breath.

_ Your powers are strong, young one. _

By some miracle, his concentration did not slip, but Luke’s eyes widened in shock.  That was definitely Vader’s voice, like he was speaking directly into his mind.  _ How…? _

_ Show me how strong you’ve become. _

That was the only warning Luke got before he felt Vader’s determination surge, doubling his efforts to blast him into virtual space dust.  Luke felt his heart leap up in his throat, but he ignored it, pouring everything he had into avoiding him, trying to find some weakness in his attack.  He spun his ship, pulling it down in a sharp angle as the simulated g-force from the action threatened to overwhelm him. Vader was hot on him, but there was a moment, the briefest  _ fraction  _ of a moment that no other pilot would have been able to see, where he could make a shot.

He squeezed the trigger, getting the satisfaction of seeing the enemy fighter’s wing getting clipped, before he had to level off or pass out.  Vader’s ship swung around wildly, but Luke was too busy struggling against the dark spots in his vision to take advantage of it immediately. It was just one shot; even a blind shot had the chance of hitting the out of control ship, right?  He just barely succeeded in bringing his ship around, blinking his vision back into focus just in time to see Vader’s out of control ship pointed directly at him…

The screen went dead as Vader fired, destroying his ship.  Luke stared incredulously at the screen now displaying his score, disbelief written all over his face.  A lucky shot… he lost to a lucky shot?!

He swore he could hear faint laughter in the back of his mind as he made his way out of the pod, seeing his squad mates staring in awe at the replay of those last few moments on a nearby viewscreen.  Glumly, Luke leaned back against the pod to watch as well, only to find himself transfixed by the display. If he had not just lived through it himself, he would have thought the fighters on the screen were part of the training simulator’s programming instead of two people.  He saw Vader emerge from his own pod out of the corner of his eye, the Dark Lord waiting patiently for the replay to finish before calling the squad to attention again.

“There is a certain lack of leadership and teamwork amongst you,” he stated, his voice clipped with his displeasure.  “Find your strengths and utilize them. Find your weaknesses and tame them. Only then will I attempt this exercise again.”

The squadron acknowledged his words and saluted, before turning to leave.  Their time was up, and the next group would be coming in soon…

“One-One-Three-Eight, a word.”

Luke stopped where he was by Teak, half turning toward Vader.  Teak hesitated, casting him a worried look, before going on with the rest of the squad.  The Dark Lord did not move until everyone left, barely acknowledging it when Luke came to stand at attention and almost brushing past him before he paused, glancing down.

“Come.  This is not a discussion I wish to have in a public space.”

Luke acknowledged softly, falling in step behind him as they left the training hall.  They traveled down drab, Imperial grey halls in silence, both of them ignoring the stares that were aimed in their direction.  They probably did look ridiculous walking together, if only because of Luke’s woeful shortness, never mind that he was just a pilot.  Eventually the other servicemen thinned out, and Luke began to recognize the halls they were walking down. When they paused, he could not help but turn to a nearby door and smile, recognizing the guest chambers from when he was a kid.  His attention was brought immediately back to the present, however, as Vader opened up the door on the opposite wall and entered, Luke just behind him.

The chambers had to be Vader’s, if only because of the large, black pod in the room he swore he recognized as a hyperbaric chamber.  He did not really understand the full extent of the Dark Lord’s condition, but anything that could allow him to take that helmet and breath mask of his off, even temporarily, seemed a necessity enough to have it in his private rooms.

Vader turned toward him once the door closed behind Luke, cape snapping at his heels.  He doubted this was just a chance for the two of them to catch up, so Luke did not relax, remaining at attention as he  _ felt  _ Vader’s eyes on him, studying him.

“I told you your father was a general in the Clone Wars, did I not?”

The question was not what Luke was expecting, and it took him a moment to respond.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do you understand what that means?”

By some miracle, Luke managed to stay at attention, eyes forward as Vader shifted, beginning to pace as he fought the urge to shudder.  He had thought about it, of course, ever since the first story he had heard of Anakin Skywalker’s exploits. They had called him the Hero with no Fear; those that were still alive and served with him still did.  Anakin had made miracles happen, turned the tide of battles and breathed hope into a hopeless war, they said. There were only two kinds of people that could do that: the charismatic officers of the Old Republic military, many of whom were now a guiding hand for the Empire’s forces, and…

“...my father was a Jedi.”

Saying it out loud felt like a death sentence, but it was the only thing that made sense.  The Jedi were only talked about in hushed whispers; wizards with powers over mind and matter, and traitors that had tried to kill then-Chancellor Palpatine, leading him to establish the Empire.  Of course, the Jedi suffered for their betrayal, and… Luke knew what that meant for him, especially with the powers he had been tapping into ever since he was younger.

He let out a breath, closing his eyes and bowing his head in acceptance.  If it was Vader that took his life, that was fine; if it had to happen, it was better that it be someone that had been kind to him, than an executioner he did not know.  To his surprise, however, Vader’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Luke dared to open his eyes, peering up at him in confusion.

“Your father protected the Emperor with every breath he had in him,” he intoned softly.  “It would be a disservice to his name to kill his son for being Force sensitive.”

Luke paused at that, before sagging slightly, easing himself into parade rest and clasping his hands tightly behind his back.  He was probably more relieved than he should have been, but even as the weight of death was lifted off his shoulders, it was quickly replaced by a profound sadness, and he found himself bowing his head again.

“...I wish I’d known him,” he said softly.  Vader was silent, allowing him to feel his grief as he regarded him.

“You may yet know him,” he finally replied, and Luke looked up at him questioningly.  “The Force is not a power exclusive to the Jedi, young one. This is a power I wield as well.”

Of course, that made sense; he had heard plenty of stories of Vader performing feats that no man could accomplish, let alone someone clearly not able bodied.  Most people seemed to think it was because Vader was secretly a droid, but Luke knew that was not true. Still, how was he supposed to respond to that? That Vader knew this power and could understand what he was going through was a good thing, but…

He bit his lip, his eyes slowly widening as he grasped what Vader was offering here.  He could  _ teach  _ him; he could show him how to use this “Force”, and help him grasp onto a part of his father that he was lacking.  His head snapped up once the realization hit him, determination replacing his sadness.

“I would like to learn how to use the Force, my lord, if you’ll have me,” he said.  “I want to make my father proud.”

Vader’s hand on his shoulder tightened, and Luke swore he heard a small voice say he already made him  _ very  _ proud.

~.oOOo.~

Anakin Skywalker had always been a fearful man.  It was a weakness that had been used against him time and time again, from the moment he left his mother behind on Tatooine to the vision of his beloved wife dying in childbirth.

It was a blessed miracle that Luke had not inherited that weakness.

Vader had to admit, he had no idea what he was doing for the first time in ages.  Even his first Padawan a lifetime ago had known the basics before she was handed off to him.  Luke, of course, knew nothing, save for his own instincts in the cockpit. It was a worry that those instincts were not enough, that there was going to be no way for him to properly articulate how to get the boy to consciously tap into the Force.  Fortunately, it became quickly apparent that his worries were groundless; Luke knew what it felt like to give into those instincts of his. Vader had only needed to guide him down the familiar paths, to the web of life that surrounded them, unseen, once or twice before the boy could easily do so on his own.

Then came the issue of trying to  _ hide  _ his power.  Luke was a beacon of light normally; when he consciously connected to the Force, that light swelled to near blinding.  It was a problem, and it was certain that he would drawn unwanted attention if he continued. Even from such a distance, prolonged use was certain to get his master’s attention…

A solution presented itself not long after he began the child’s training.  As much as he loathed it, his own body needed  _ matinence  _ on occasion, and while that could be done in part on the  _ Devastator,  _ only his palace on Mustafar had the full complement of medical equipment necessary to ensure he was up to his full potential.  Bringing the boy there under the guise of Black Squadron needing time to practice working as a unit not only gave him space away from his master, but also the Dark that thrived on the planet was sure to smother Luke’s overwhelming light.

It was how the boy came to be as he was now, quietly separated from the others at his request, trying not to stare around Vader’s palace like he was eleven all over again.  It made him smile despite the pain it brought, knowing that it would likely take very little time before Luke would begin to lose that childlike wonder of his.

They finally came to a large training room, the walls lined with deactivated MagnaGuard droids, as well as a rack of different lightsabers liberated from Jedi over the years.  Vader certainly did not miss it when the boy’s eyes zeroed in on them, his interest surging through the Force. It made him pause, considering; he could certainly give him a lightsaber that was to his liking, as it would be easy enough to hide, but he there was no doubt in his mind that Luke would want to build his own.  That was something he could not allow, not yet.

Training him to use one, however… that he could do.  It certainly would not be the first time he showed a “normal” soldier how to use one.

With a flick of his hand, he sent one of the hilts flying toward Luke.  He caught it easily, eyes lighting up as he hefted it in his hand, testing the weight.

“It’s heavier than I thought it would be,” he mused as Vader turned to him, removing his own lightsaber from his belt.  He ignited it without a word, and Luke’s demeanor instantly shifted, understanding now was the time to focus. He held the weapon before him, taking a moment to be sure he was holding it in a way that he would not injure himself, before activating it, bathing his face in the blade’s soft blue glow.

“Both hands on the hilt, right above left,” Vader instructed, pushing aside the feelings that threatened to surge at the sight of Luke, watching him with a critical eye instead as he adjusted his hands.  “Keep your grip relaxed; it will allow for freedom of movement.”

“But wouldn’t that mean a hard hit would knock it from my hand?” he asked.

Vader smirked humorlessly.  “Better to lose your weapon than your hand.”

Luke made a face at that, not about to argue with him.  Vader turned then, motioning for the boy to do the same, and to continue to follow his movements as he guided him through the basics.  He followed along, his movements slow and jerky at first, but improving quickly as he gained confidence in the motions. It barely took any time at all before he was keeping an even pace, and his natural aptitude had Vader smiling once again.

“Good,” he said, closing down his lightsaber and returning it to his belt.  Luke held onto his for a moment more, studying the weapon curiously, before shutting it off and handing it to him.

“I could almost feel something while we practiced,” he said.  “It was almost like it was fighting me the whole time.”

Vader nodded at that, accepting the lightsaber back, absently sending it flying toward its spot on the rack.

“The heart of a lightsaber is the kyber crystal within,” he explained.  “It is a semi-sentient crystal strong with the Force that bonds with the Jedi that reaches out to it.”

Luke paused at that, leaning around Vader to eye the rack critically.

“...don’t they know their Jedi are dead?”

Vader almost attempted a laugh at that.

“Semi-sentient does not mean fully aware, young one,” he replied.  “I have no doubt the crystals suspect they are without their masters, but there is not enough intelligence in them to know for certain.  If anything, the crystal within that lightsaber may have resisted you just because of where we are.”

A frown creased Luke’s face as he continued to stare at the lightsabers.  It was clear he wanted to know what Vader meant by that, about how the kyber crystal could even tell what was going on with their surroundings, and most importantly…

“Will I be able to make my own?”

He was wondering when that question would come up.

“At present, no,” Vader replied.  “Both the building of a lightsaber and the bleeding of a kyber crystal send surges through the Force that are impossible to ignore, which is part of the reason we are here.”

Again, Luke looked like he had so many questions, but he glanced at the rack of lightsabers again and thought better of it.

“Is something wrong with me, my lord?” he asked instead, a worried look crossing his face.  Vader stilled, frowning to himself as he considered how to phrase his answer. Once again, he was feeling inadequate when it came to training the boy.  He knew his master’s methods would be… far too harsh, and not something he was willing to put him through. Part of him wished they had not been so thorough in eradicating the Jedi; if he had some sort of guide…

No; he stamped that thought out immediately.  Even if he did have a guide, it would just be tainted with centuries worth of misguidance.  He was not going to submit Luke to that either.

“You are your father’s son,” Vader said finally.  “He was strong in the Force, and you are very much the same; perhaps even stronger.  Unfortunately, that also means you are very easy to sense. You need to learn to suppress your presence in the Force, least you draw unwanted attention.”

The worry on Luke’s face turned to slight alarm.  “From who?”

“There is the Inquisitorius, former Jedi who have fallen, and seek others to corrupt,” Vader replied, and it was not a  _ complete  _ lie.  The Inquisitors would certainly try to take Luke, very likely on the Emperor’s orders, which would leave him powerless to stop them.  At least, they would if there were any left alive, though he was not naive; there was no doubt in Vader’s mind his master would try to restart that rabble if he had the opportunity to.  “And there is always the chance some Jedi remain, and they would not hesitate to attempt to turn someone to their cause.”

Luke made a face, a sudden, fierce spike of loyalty directed at Vader coming through the Force.  Again that day, he felt a smile come to his face. This boy…

“What do I need to do?”

Vader motioned for him to sit in the middle of the room.  He may have felt like he did not know what he was doing, may have had no guidance in how to handle any of this, but he did have faith now in Luke’s ability to  _ learn.  _ It would, at the very least, form a backbone to make up for anything he lacked when it came to training the boy.

~.oOOo.~

Luke was careful to balance his time between his squad and Vader as the weeks wore on, but it was difficult, largely because Teak kept making it difficult.  It was more than once that he cornered him after he slipped back into the quarters reserved for Black Squadron, trying to get him to spill on what he had been up to.  The more he learned to control his power, the more he could tell Teak’s hounding was not out of fear that he may be up to something, but a deep seated, almost motherly concern for his well being that was slowly turning into frustration.  Fortunately, Mauler seemed to understand that whatever he was slipping off to do was between him and Lord Vader, and it was none of their business. Luke barely knew the man, but he was insanely grateful for his efforts in trying to defuse Teak’s growing impatience.

“We have more important issues to deal with,” Mauler said after the latest incident, still shooting Teak a reprimanding look for his hounding.  “You two don’t have call signs yet, do you?”

Teak shot Luke an irritable look, and Luke knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

“Well, at least Wormie will be easy.”

Luke’s temper immediately shot up, and a loud  _ bang  _ of a chair hitting the wall came from somewhere nearby.  A feeling of curiosity came from somewhere else in the castle, but Luke was too busy keeping an eye on Mauler’s reaction to notice.  Fortunately, he seemed too preoccupied with what Teak said to give the banging sound much thought.

“Where did you get ‘Wormie’ from?” he asked, drawing a large grin from Teak.

_ “Teak,”  _ Luke began, his tone a warning, reminding him of that promise to space him.  If the smug look that came to his friend’s face was any indication, he did not really care at the moment.

“Luke was the youngest person at the Academy for the longest time,” he explained.  “He’s the reason why there’s a junior program now, but for a few years, it was just him and the older kids.  Plus, with how short he is too… I mean…”

Teak flashed Luke a grin, getting him to roll his eyes.

“By the time I got there, he already had a reputation for ‘worming’ his way into trouble, and ‘worming’ his way back out of it, and the nickname just kind of stuck,” he continued.  “I had to chase him down a few times myself.”

Luke seethed, trying very hard not to let it out through the Force.  Something rattled in the background anyway, and he had to turn away and pace a moment, trying to calm down.  Mauler had a contemplative look on his face, not commenting on any noises going on in the background, before he leveled a finger on Teak.

“Chaser.”

Teak’s jaw dropped, his throat trying to produce something like noise.

“Wha—?”

Mauler smirked humorlessly.  “Next time, you’ll know better than to saddle a brother with something permanently embarrassing.”

It was Luke’s turn to grin smugly as Teak sulked, though the expression soon faded as Mauler turned his attention to him.  The older man pressed a finger to his chin as he regarded him, and Luke almost had the feeling like he was being seen through.

“...I’ve never seen anyone go toe to toe in a cockpit against Lord Vader like you can,” he finally said.  “If there’s anyone in the Imperial Navy that can follow in his footsteps, I have a feeling it’s you.”

Luke’s eyes widened at that.  “Follow in Vader’s footsteps”?  Just as a pilot, or…?

For a brief moment, he could see himself standing where Vader would stand on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, but it could not be the  _ Devastator;  _ the command deck was too wide, and the trenches on either side of the bridge much too large.  The viewport was huge as well, and Luke got the feeling that not only was the entire fleet laid out before him to command, but the entire galaxy as well…

“...Shadow,” Mauler finally said, drawing Luke back to the present.  “Since you’re in Vader’s shadow right now.”

Teak grumbled about how he got a cool call sign, but all Luke could focus on was the heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

~.oOOo.~

Vader barely gave Director Krennic a second thought once he released his hold on the man’s throat, save for his irritation at his schedule being interrupted.  It was bad enough he had needed to spend a much longer time than he usually did in the Bacta treatment tank that day, his burned body still aching to the point of being uncomfortable, but to be interrupted in his own home by the obnoxious ego of someone attempting to chase down the ambitions of stronger men? He had a squad to supervise and a child to train; he had no patience for interruptions like this.

Speaking of the child…

Luke was a fast study, much faster than he had been, and took to the basics with an ease that almost had him jealous.  He had well learned to mute his presence in a scarce few weeks, and while  _ he  _ could always feel where he was after a moment’s concentration, he was certain no one else would be able to unless he was actively using the Force in front of them.

I seemed like even then, that may not be an issue in due time.  After a moment of stalking through the halls, Vader zeroed in on where the boy was.  His palace may have been sparse, but it did, at least, hold its own collection of Dark artifacts, particularly when it came to reading material.  He found Luke curled up on the floor in the corner of the study in which that material was contained, pouring over an ancient datareader on his lap. His arm was stretched out to his side, keeping a few small trinkets of his aloft while focusing on muting his presence.

Vader felt that smile he could never seem to keep off his face, despite the pain it sent through him.

“Practicing, young one, or showing off?”

The trinkets Luke was floating dipped a little, and he scrunched his face as Vader came around to stand in front of him, trying to force them back up without losing his place.

“There will always be distractions,” he answered, a distant sound to his voice.  “It’s the first thing they teach you at the Academy.”

Vader nodded at that, pleased with the boy’s initiative. Luke must have sensed it, because a smile came to his face, though he did not look up until he finished with the passage he was reading. 

“I’m sorry; I know you said I had free reign as long as no one in the squad saw me, but…”

He paused, a look of disquiet coming to his face as he gazed around the room. Vader could not fault him; while his collection was nothing compared to his master’s, there were still some items of…  _ questionable  _ use. Add to that, the stronger he became, the more the boy seemed to be particularly sensitive to when the Dark Side was present. At first, Vader believed it easy for him to fall, to draw out that youthful anger of his and drag him down into Darkness. 

…but there were times he saw Luke’s kind heart and  _ her  _ eyes every time he looked up at him, and then he envisioned Luke with bloodshot yellow eyes slaughtering everything in his path, and he could not bring himself to do it. It just added to his many fears; the boy made him weak, and he was afraid his hesitation was making Luke weak as well. 

After a moment, Luke looked down at the datareader on his lap, before offering it up to Vader to inspect. 

“I felt it… calling to me? I think?” he explained. “I don’t think it was written by the Lord that came up with it, but…”

Vader eyed the reader, a few passages catching his attention. It spoke of harnessing the emotions, of taking what one needed of peace and anger, fear and tranquility, and discarding what was not necessary. In essence, it was finding a true balance between both aspects of the Force, without surrendering to either side. It made him recall what Luke said about the Rebellion and the Empire; how he believed the Rebels had some good points, but he did not believe the Empire was entirely evil…

_ I believe he will bring balance to the Force… _

Vader stamped out the memory that threatened swiftly, offering the reader back. 

“I have only shown you the basics until now, young one,” he began. “I have not even begun to explain the differences between the Light and the Dark, yet you seem to have found your answer as to your place in the Force on your own.”

Luke stared up at him in awe, not entirely grasping what he meant by that, but at least understanding he had taken a very important step in his training without even realizing it. 

“Make a copy of that,” Vader continued. “Study it. I will test you on these methods from here on.”

Luke could hardly contain his excitement, scrambling to his feet and barely remembering to bow and thank Vader, before zipping off to find a data converter. 

_ “Luke…” _

The trinkets — Luke’s data cylinder and a few credit chips he had left free floating without giving them much thought — flung themselves across the room and into Luke’s hand as he ran off. 


	4. Death Star

Luke was fairly sure he was the only one in the squad sad to leave Mustafar behind.  He found himself stealing glances at it as they flew into their designated hanger on the  _ Devastator,  _ longing to be back down there and learning more of the Force, but it could not be helped.  An emergency high alert had come in from Scarif, and all available ships were to respond to the summons.  As he understood it, they were not even leaving their fighters; Black Squadron was expected to launch as soon as they arrived.  The urgency made Luke tighten his grip on the control yolk as he slid into his docking slot; it had to be a Rebel attack. There was no way it could be anything else.

But what kind of crazy did you have to be in order to attack the Imperial Research Data Archive Facility?

The waiting was agony.  Normally, Luke enjoyed hyperspace, but the thought of what waited for them on the other side had him anxious.  Would it be just like the Academy all over again? No, of course not, there were trained soldiers at the facility… just like there had been trained soldiers at the Academy…  He blew out an aggravated breath, shifting against his seat harness and closing his eyes. If he was going to be stuck here for who knew how long, then he was going to mediate and practice balancing his emotions.  Maybe that would help him feel more at ease with what was going on.

He knew at least an hour had passed since he slipped into meditation, but it felt like seconds between then and when the call to scramble filled his helmet.  He was still half in it as he guided his ship out, a deep calm settling over him, so much so he was not even the slightest bit phased as he ducked around the remains of a ship that had been caught off guard when the  _ Devastator  _ came out of hyperspace, the Star Destroyer’s gunnery team leaving it a ripped apart hulk thanks to their turbolasers.

“Destroy all enemy fighters, Blacks,” Mauler’s voice ordered once they all called in.  “Escape pods too; these Rebels get no mercy from us.”

No mercy, hunh?  Luke grit his teeth, remembering the hopelessness he felt at the Academy, his fear and anger.  He picked through those emotions, tossing aside his rage and need for revenge, though it took a substantial amount of effort.  It made him much more focused once he engaged the Rebels, picking his first off in only a matter of seconds. He dove through a line of enemy fighters, feeling more than seeing Teak on his wing as always.  The two of them together latched onto one of the fighters — an X-wing, he thought they were called — crowding it until the pilot made a wrong move and fell to Teak’s laser fire.

“Hey, Shadow, is it me, or do these guys look like they’re not up for fighting?”

Luke had to agree with Teak’s assessment.  He could already see a few of the capital ships in the distance fleeing to hyperspace.  Even the fighters were less interested in engaging and more interested in running.

“I think you’re right,” he murmured, before speaking up, “Black One, this is Black Five, the Rebels are turning tail; I think they got whatever it is they came for before we got here.”

Luke half expected Mauler to reply, but Vader’s voice rumbled over the com instead.

“All fighters, focus fire power on the bulk cruiser at point six.  Disable engines only.”

“This is Black Three, we’re closest; going in.”

Luke glanced out his viewport toward the point indicated, spotting the transport in question, but… something did not feel right.  A quiet feeling tugged at the back of his mind, like he was supposed to know what was on that cruiser… He shook the feeling off — he did not need it right now, so he let it go — guiding his fighter down and around so he and Teak could make their pass on the ship’s engines.

It was not long before they were going up, and the command to hold formation and ward off enemy fighters came soon after.  Luke ended up picking off one Rebel that thought he could pull his attention away, and if the Force had him any more distracted, he might have succeeded.  There was something  _ here,  _ something familiar…

He saw the boarding ship latch onto the cruiser, and Luke immediately sensed Vader aboard, a raging fire of power, dark and cold and threatening to swallow up anything that dared cross his path.  He almost,  _ almost  _ pitied the Rebels on that ship; he doubted there would be many left by the time the Dark Lord was through.  Still, as the Darkness surged, he found himself worried, almost  _ scared.  _ Not for Vader, he knew he would be fine, but for…

“Heads up!  We got an energy signature coming from the stern!”

The warning was barely out of his squad mate’s mouth when the end of the ship opposite from Luke suddenly burst open.  Another, smaller cruiser emerged from the inside, turbolasers firing a few shots meant to scatter anyone close by, before the ship jumped into hyperspace, taking that sensation of familiarity with it.

Whatever was the source of that feeling, it was on  _ that  _ ship.

“A blockade runner?   _ Seriously?” _

“Cut the chatter, Black Six,” Mauler admonished.  “Time to bring it in;  _ Devastator _ ’s going after that ship once we’re loaded.”

Luke steeled himself as he acknowledged the order, pulling his ship back.  As much as he was loath to admit it, he was glad to leave; Vader’s rage coming from the husk of the cruiser was starting to give him a headache.

~.oOOo.~

It was bad enough Vader had been interrupted by Krennic barely a few days ago, but being drawn away from both his palace and Luke’s training did even more to darken his mood. And for what? Plans for a battlestation he thought was a blight upon the galaxy? Were it not the Emperor’s will, he would turn the thing into scrap himself — it was yet another one of the  _ many  _ things he had come to disagree with his master on. 

It was with the full force of his ire that he stared down his Rebel leader prisoner, not that he was surprised  _ who  _ it was. He had seen Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan on the few occasions he was at Imperial Center, especially after she had taken her father’s place in the Imperial Senate a year ago, and had encountered her a number of times when her ships were “mysteriously” hijacked by outlaws. Their interactions had always been brief; her ability to staunchly argue her point, among other things, made hers a presence he had no desire to linger in. Even now, as she stood handcuffed before him, she was attempting to stare  _ him  _ down with that bold temper of hers to back up her short stature. The similarities were annoying and grating, especially when he could not help but note she was about Luke’s age…

“Darth Vader, only you would be so bold,” she declared, breaking his thoughts. “The Imperial Senate will not sit still for this. When they hear you’ve attacked a diplomatic—“

“Don’t act so surprised, Your Highness; you weren’t on any ‘mercy mission’ this time,” he cut her off, ignoring the offended look she was giving him. “Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by Rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you.”

She held herself tall, and for the briefest of moments, it seemed like she would have the audacity to  _ smirk  _ at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan!”

This little, bold-faced lying slip of a girl! Vader’s hand clenched, and he just barely managed to keep himself from strangling her. No, as much as he wanted to, she was much more valuable as a prisoner to be interrogated , something that would take time and patience he was already wearing thin on. He pointed a finger in her face instead, letting his rage punctuate every word. 

“You are part of the Rebel Alliance, and a traitor!” he snapped, before motioning to her stormtrooper escort. “Take her away!”

He saw one of the troopers shove her back to get her to move, but he did not care. This was already a waste of time, and he was not going to be done with it any time soon. Still, it needed to be done, despite his griping; best to get it out of the way so he could return to training Luke that much faster. 

~.oOOo.~

_ “Well, hello there, Captain.” _

_ Han Solo was just breaking into his twenties when he met the old man, rough with the sands of this dust ball of a planet. At first, he almost told him to take a hike, not in the mood to deal with some desert rat Tatooine spat out. But then, as always, he had been desperate for money, and the old man promised him two thousand credits, with an additional fifteen waiting for him at Alderaan. How could he have passed that up? _

_ Part of him wished he had. The old man was an unsettling passenger, unflappably calm, and anytime Han looked at him, he had a feeling his soul was being laid bare before that blue-eyed gaze. He struck up the occasional conversation, actually asking about his military service (how in the hell had he  _ known _ about that?), and what led him to be a smuggler. He answered, if only because it was a long flight and there was nothing else to do, and because he hoped it would get those creepy eyes to stop looking at him like  _ that. 

_ Alderaan was a place he had never been to before himself, being a (relatively) clean Core World, but he had heard enough of its beauty that he was not so shocked once he broke the cloud cover. What  _ was  _ surprising was being allowed to dock at the Aldera palace itself, and then seeing his old desert rat passenger being greeted by the  _ Queen  _ and her consort.  Han stood awkwardly in the background, Chewbacca letting out little rumbles every now and then, echoing his thoughts.  He almost missed the little girl until she was practically right next to him, her small hand reaching up and resting on a landing strut as far as she could reach.  A grin crept onto Han’s face at how small she was — she could not be any more than ten or eleven, and even still, she was short for her age. _

_ “Like what you see, little princess?” he teased.  It earned him a serious, brown-eyed stare that seemed way too old for someone that young, before she gazed up at the  _ Millenium Falcon  _ again. _

_ “...it’s a piece of junk.” _

_ Han bristled immediately as Chewie let out little wookiee guffaws. _

_ “She may look that way, but she’s got it where it counts, princess,” he declared.  “She’s the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs!” _

_ “And that means what to me?” _

_ Chewie laughed again as Han struggled with a protest, mouth moving, but no sound coming out. _

_ “Leia,” the queen called after her, “don’t antagonize the captain.” _

_ The little princess glanced toward her mother, before turning to Han again, bowing and murmuring an apology he was sure she did not mean, before running over to her parents.  He glared after her, lips pressed in a thin line as he could feel Chewie’s eyes on the back of his head. The expected warble came a moment later, and he immediately raised a hand to cut him off. _

_ “Do  _ not  _ call her ‘adorable’, fuzzball,” he grumbled, earning himself a chuckle.  The both of them were brats as far as he was concerned! “Look, just keep the ship warmed; as soon as we’re paid, we’re gone.” _

_ Chewbacca let out a faint noise, heading back inside the ship as whatever the old man was talking about with the Queen’s consort concluded and the two parted ways.  Maybe it was just because Han was already irritated, but the other man looked… scared, his hand resting heavy on his daughter’s shoulder. He frowned, almost ignoring the old man as he came back toward him. _

_ “Thank you for your assistance, Captain,” the old man began.  “The senator says he will arrange for your payment shortly.” _

_ “Yeah, great…” Han replied distantly, watching the royals exchange words, before the little princess hugged her father tight.  “What the hell did you say to them, old man?” _

_ He glanced back, a sad look coming to those creepy blue eyes, and suddenly Han felt like he was looking at someone far older than what the old man appeared. _

_ “Something vital to the survival of the galaxy,” he answered.  “Something I had hoped would never happen.” _

_ Han frowned; sounded like more of his creepy mumbo jumbo.  He definitely was not in the mood for more of it, and would have just waved him off it there still was not something bothering him about all of this. _

_ “Hey, why’d you hire me for this?” he asked, turning away from the royals.  “You could have had any pilot in Mos Eisley for a helluva lot cheaper than this.  Why me?” _

_ A small, mysterious smile came to the old man’s face. _

_ “Because, Captain Solo, I needed a man that was more than the money he desired,” he explained.  “I needed a good man.” _

_ Han felt an eyebrow twitch at that,  _ really  _ wishing people would stop calling him a good guy.  He opened his mouth, ready to tell him off, only to feel eyes on him.  His mouth ended up clicking shut quickly, and he turned to see the little princess was staring at them, that serious look almost seeming heavier with responsibility now.  The old man followed his gaze, smiling still. _

_ “...perhaps, it seems, your destiny is more intertwined with ours than I thought…” _

Han scowled at the ceiling of his bunk on his beloved ship as he pulled himself awake.  It definitely was not the first time he dreamed about dropping that old man off eight years ago, and he was starting to get annoyed.  He did not  _ want  _ to deal with that memory; he had enough on his plate right now trying to figure out how to pay Jabba back after dumping his spice shipment.  No surprise the Hutt was not accepting the fact that even he got boarded by Imps sometimes; he was damn lucky he  _ survived  _ so Jabba could demand to pay him back.

The loud, annoyed braying of his wookiee co-pilot dragged Han back to the present.  He let out a groan, running a hand over his face, before forcing himself out of the bunk.  He swore, if this was another one of Jabba’s thugs trying to get an extra payday…

What he saw once he made it down the ramp was almost comical.  Some goldenrod protocol droid was standing a safe distance from Chewie, fussing and fretting as a smaller astromech kept letting out loud blats that sounded like cursing, trying to get around him.  Chewie stubbornly refused to let the droid pass, yelling back that they were not interested in whatever Jabba was sending them there for.

“Oh my, there seems to be some sort of mistake,” the goldenrod spoke up, almost flailing in his distress. “We do not represent this ‘Jabba’ you’re speaking of.”

“So who  _ do  _ you work for?” Han asked, drawing the astrodroid’s attention.  The little guy let out a happy noise, followed by a quick string of beeps.

“Captain Solo, I presume?” the gold droid began.  “I am See-Threepio, human cyborg relations. My counterpart here, Artoo-Detoo, says he has a vitally important message for you.”

“Oh yeah?  From who?”

The R2 unit let out another trill.

“Princess Leia, sir.”

Han froze solid, trying not to let his surprise reach his face.  Okay,  _ now  _ this was starting to get creepy.  Chewie let out a soft, concerned noise, warning him that it could be a trap, though Han’s gut told him otherwise.  If these were actually some kind of attack droids, then some twisted nerf herder must have programmed them. Besides, how many people knew about his trip to Alderaan?  Knew he even got to meet the little princess? No, this was definitely for real, and it drew a frustrated sigh out of him.

“All right, fine, get on board,” he grumbled, stepping back into the ship, the droids following just behind, with Chewie bringing up the rear.

He led the droids to the crew lounge, turning around and leaning against the dejarik table.  The goldenrod shuffled in behind the R2 unit, looking decidedly more twitchy than most protocol droids of his type.  The astrodroid was rolling around with much more confidence, and let out a pleased trill when Han waved for him to get on with it, tilting forward as his holoprojector came to life.

Han really did not know what to expect.  Sure, the princess had been a kid eight years ago — still  _ was  _ a kid, technically — but even with the grainy recording lines distorting her image, he found himself unable to look away.  Those brown eyes he remembered, and they still made her look much older than nineteen, yet they seemed deeper somehow, like he could dive in and get lost in them.  Her face was soft and delicate, like someone had crafted her from marble before bringing her to life, and the white senatorial dress was doing nothing to dispel that mental image.  The hood of that dress was just barely hiding her rich brown hair, just as soft and stunning as her eyes.

Kriff, it was  _ not  _ fair that little runt had grown into  _ that. _

“Captain Solo,” the recording began, “years ago, you aided my family by bringing my dear friend and mentor to us.  Now I must beg you to assist us again. I regret that I am unable to request your skills in person; my ship has fallen under attack, and my mission to Alderaan has failed.  I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion inside the memory systems of this Artoo unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You  _ must  _ see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan, or more star systems will suffer under the Empire’s shadow.”

The Leia in the recording paused then, looking up, and Han swore she was looking directly at him, like she knew where he would be standing when the message was played.

“Help me, Han Solo; you’re my only hope.”

The recording winked out, leaving the room in a deep, profound silence as Han continued to stare at where Leia’s image had been.  It was a lot to absorb, and his gut reaction was to kick the droids off his ship. He knew more than a few smugglers that had been drawn into the Rebellion’s work — good people that the Empire had been more than happy to execute on the spot when they were caught.  Being an outlaw was dangerous enough as it was, not to mention a  _ deserter  _ turned outlaw.  Ten years ago or not, he was pretty sure there was a blaster with his name on it if he got busted long enough for his ID to be checked.  Throwing in with the Rebels on top of it? That was essentially  _ asking  _ to be killed.

...but  _ Leia… _

He let out a frustrated groan as Chewie rumbled softly, trying to tell him it was a bad idea.  Like he did not already  _ know. _

“Chewie, how long before the ship is ready for take off?”

The wookiee rolled his eyes, shaking his head, before grumbling that the rear stabilizer was having issues again.  It was going to need rebuilding before they went anywhere.

“Fine, get to it,” Han ordered, before looking down at the astrodroid.  “Give him a hand, short stuff.”

The R2 unit let out an excited beep, rolling over to nudge against Chewbacca’s leg.  Chewie looked down at the little guy before looking at Han again, and he could tell without meeting his gaze that he was being judged.  He waved him off, not in the mood to be told how crazy this was again.

“Ah, Captain Solo, might there be anything I can do to assist?” the protocol droid asked.  Han twitched at the goldenrod’s annoying voice, wondering if he could just take the astromech and ditch his counterpart.

“Talk to the  _ Falcon,”  _ he ground out instead, “make sure there’s nothing else wrong with her.”

He already had a bad enough feeling about all this; he did not need his own ship making things worse.

~.oOOo.~

Luke watched as his TIE fighter was unloaded from the transport and into the impossibly huge hanger, waiting for the clamp to grab onto it and lift it into place before he started forward.  He saw Teak’s being unloaded as he climbed up to his ship, plugging his handheld in and doing his own post-transport diagnostic.The pad beeped as it started cycling and testing systems, giving Luke a chance to look out at the docking bay and all the other ships ranging from fighters to troop transports.  It seemed like too much for just a “normal” battlestation, though considering how tight lipped people had been, it was doubtful this place was anything like normal. They had not been permitted use of the cockpit of the transport they took here, and the personnel hold did not have viewports they could see out of.  Considering they had been transporting a prisoner as well, he was not surprised. Prisoners were not supposed to know where they were being taken.

Though, considering the grim atmosphere of the battlestation, he had a feeling  _ they  _ were not supposed to know where they were either.

His pad let out a positive sounding beep, indicating all systems were green, and Luke unhooked it before making his way back down.  He was trying not to dwell on the  _ things _ he was feeling — the overwhelming sadness that assaulted his senses the moment he set foot on the station, not to mention the persistent familiar sensation that continued to haunt him — and instead turned his focus up to Teak, waiting for him to finish his check.  Thankfully, he did not have to wait long, and just being near his best friend helped him keep his focus away from whatever those things were.

“You think they’re ever going to tell us where we’re at?” Teak asked as they left the hanger, heading to where their temporary ready room was.  It was certainly  _ very  _ temporary; only Lieutenant Tanbris had come along outside of the pilots, and Luke was already starting to sorely miss DV-2.  He could not wait to get off this miserable station and back onto the  _ Devastator. _

“Pretty sure we’ll never be ranked high enough for that,” Luke replied, flopping down into a seat before finally pulling his helmet off.  Teak pulled his off as well, and Luke raised an eyebrow at the frown on his face.

“I dunno, Luke,” he began, “I got a bad feeling about this place.”

Luke could not disagree, and it took effort for him to work a smirk on to his face.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one to get funny feelings?”

Teak snorted, shaking his head.  “I’m serious, Luke; something’s not right about this.”

They both fell quiet, exchanging worried looks, knowing they could not say more than that, least they be accused of being traitors.

~.oOOo.~

If Vader was at the edge of his patience before, it was worn thin now.  Trying to torture the information he wanted out of the princess had been a useless gesture; her ability to resist a mind probe had been far beyond what he expected.  He doubted it was because of any kind of resistance training, but any attempt to find out why had also proven useless. She was not Force sensitive by any means; for all intents and purposes, she was just obnoxiously strong willed.  It made Grand Moff Tarkin — the governor given charge of the Death Star after Krennic’s  _ convenient  _ demise on Scarif — believe he needed  _ help,  _ which only stoked Vader’s irritation more, especially with how he decided to offer that “help”.

At least having the Death Star threatening the safety of the entire planet of Alderaan made the princess’ stubbornness break.  One small, pleasing thing to happen in the last few days, though he hardly took pleasure in it.

“Dantooine,” she finally forced out at Tarkin’s demands for the location of the Rebel base.  “They’re on Dantooine.”

She hung her head in grief, and it was seriously admirable how she could continue to lie in the face of what was happening.  He may have even appreciated her tenancy, despite how much it reminded him of  _ her,  _ if his mind were not otherwise focused on much more important issues.

“There, you see, Lord Vader, she can be reasonable,” Tarkin said, favoring him with a thin smile.  At one point, long ago, he had liked this man; appreciated his thoughts and his wisdom, but power had clearly gone to his head.  Being left in command of the battlestation to spread his doctrine of control through fear made it obvious that was not changing any time soon.  He more than proved that as he turned, addressing one of the officers in the room. “Proceed with the operation; you may fire when ready.”

The princess stiffened before Vader, all color draining from her face.

_ “What?!” _

Tarkin turned that thin smile of his on her.

“You’re far too trusting.  Dantooine is too remote for an effective demonstration, but don’t worry.  We will deal with your Rebel friends soon enough.”

The princess struggled, for a moment looking like she would strangle Tarken with her bare hands, despite the fact they were still bound.  Vader easily held her back with one of his own clasped on her shoulder, yet even as he did so, he could  _ feel  _ something.  It was a desperate plea though the Force, trying to find some way for the shot to not go off, despite how futile it was.  Still, it flung itself through the station, trying to find some weakness, some person to stop or some design flaw to hold on tight to and keep it from activating.  It was a poor attempt, lacking control or any kind of finesse to make it happen, but it was  _ trained. _

She  _ was  _ Force sensitive; she had just been concealing it, like…

Realization dawned on Vader then, his grip on the princess’ shoulder tightening.   _ Luke;  _ he did not even know what this battlestation was capable of.  If that planet was destroyed while he was not prepared for it…

“Tarkin,  _ enough,”  _ his voice suddenly boomed from his vocoder, startling the princess enough to make her jump against him.  “You’ve made your point.”

Tarkin turned toward him, incredulous, and he was not the only one.  He could feel Leia’s eyes on him as well as he stared the Grand Moff down, though he ignored her for the moment.

“I don’t believe I have, Lord Vader,” he replied, an edge to his voice.  “I would have thought you, who inspire fear in all those you meet, would appreciate the  _ necessity  _ of this.”

No, it was not necessary, but Vader did not have the time to argue the point.  He could feel the battlestation shuddering; the main cannon would fire any second.  There was no time to mentally search through the station to find Luke and prevent the princess from causing a scene at the same time.  All he could do was hope the boy was in the company of his friend as he flung his senses around Leia, shielding her.

The Death Star’s primary laser fired in the next moment, and Leia shuddered, unconsciously reaching through the Force to pull Vader’s protection closer around herself, like a child huddling back against a blanket.  Tarkin turned as the screen behind him lit up with the explosion, letting out a disappointed tut as all that was left where supercooled asteroids flinging themselves through space.

“Now, you see?  You made me miss it,” he remarked, almost like a petulant child missing his favorite holovid.  Leia shuddered in Vader’s grasp, though much of the fight hand been drained out of her.

“You monster…” she managed to get out, before he steered her away from Tarkin.  The sooner he removed her, the sooner he could get to Luke. Even as he brought her to the turbolift, his senses were searching the station, actually having difficulty locating him.  His presence was muted, and it took him a moment to realize the boy was unconscious.

He fought against an irritated noise, turning his focus back to the princess, who had yet to lift her head since they entered the lift, burdened with the shock of her loss.

“...who trained you?”

Leia was silent for a long moment.  “Does it matter?”

Still attempting to be defiant to the bitter end; Vader let out a sigh his vocoder struggled to interpret.  She looked up at him at the sound, her expression struggling to remain stubborn, but her eyes glazing over, struggling against tears, did little to enforce the image she was trying to project.

“...he left not long after I accepted the sentatorship, and he was trying to hide how poor his health was then,” she finally replied.  “If he is still alive, he’s hardly a threat to you, and we both know my abilities don’t matter. Once Tarkin realizes I lied, he will have me terminated.  The end is the same, no matter who does it.”

She turned away from him then, her small shoulders sagging.  There was a brokenness to her finally, that much was clear, despite how much she was fighting to put herself back together enough so that she could still face her impending death with pride.  For some reason, it bothered Vader more than any of her other similarities.

“...thank you,” she murmured after a lengthy silence, just as the turbolift came to a stop.  “For trying to stop him.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke could still remember the sounds of  _ millions  _ screaming as one when he awoke, a chill running through his entire body.  He instinctively reached out through the Force, locating Vader and pulling the warmth of his shadow close even before he opened his eyes.  The first thing he saw was Teak was staring down at him, looking half frantic and squeezing his hand hard enough to cut off circulation. Mauler was just in view, looking like he was barely putting up with the other pilot’s presence.

Luke let out a groan as he sat up, blinking blearily at his surroundings.  The medbay, in contrast to the usual drab Imperial grays and blacks, was such a stark  _ white  _ it actually hurt his eyes.  He forced them to adjust as he tried to shake off Teak’s hand.

“What happened…?”

Mauler looked like he was going to reply, but Teak beat him to it.

“You tell me!” he squeaked.  “One moment you’re fine, the next your eyes are rolling back and you’re hitting the deck!”

Luke blinked, staring as he tried to piece together what happened and not entirely sure how to respond.  No one knew about his Force training except for Vader; he had no idea how he was supposed to explain that he heard an entire planet’s worth of voices crying out in terror before they were just as suddenly silenced.  It  _ had  _ to be something with the Force as well; there was no way he would have been able to hear that horrendous sound normally.  Thankfully, Mauler saved him from trying to explain, though not in a way he liked.

“The med droid said you were showing signs of extreme fatigue,” he said, before pointing a finger at him.  “I’m cycling you out; no patrols and no engagements until the next cycle. You too, Chaser; you can’t fly for bantha spit if you’re not chasing after Shadow.”

Both Teak and Luke had twin offended looks on their faces, struggling to find a way to protest against that.  It was Luke that found his voice first.

“That’s not fair; I’m  _ fine,  _ I can still fly.  And even if I couldn’t, Teak doesn’t need me; he doesn’t deserve to be punished too!”

That finger was in his face again.

“You’re reckless,  _ kid,”  _ he snapped, shutting Luke down with a single word.  “No patrols, no engagements.”

Mauler stalked out at that, leaving Luke to practically deflate in on himself.  The two of them stared at where their superior had been, a glum atmosphere settling over them both and once again, Luke found his voice first, turning to his best friend.

“I’m sorry, Teak.”

Teak stared at him for a moment, incredulous.

“Wha— I’m not worried about  _ me.  _ I’m worried about  _ you,”  _ he replied.  “What the heck  _ happened,  _ Luke?  I never saw anyone turn as white as you did before you passed out.”

Luke tried to come up with something, but he was saved from explaining once again as the door opened.  The sound of Vader’s breathing preceded him into the room, and Teak snapped to attention as Luke straightened as best he could.

“Leave us,” Vader ordered, and Teak spared Luke a worried glance, before acknowledging the order and heading out.

Silence hung between them, and Luke attempted to speak several times.  The words died before he could get them out, and finally he gave up, bowing his head.  Vader suddenly raised a fist after a moment, and he could hear a  _ popping  _ noise go around the room as security cameras were destroyed.  Luke nearly jumped, staring up at Vader in bewilderment as he approached, not sure what to expect.  Did he screw up? Did others realize he was Force sensitive because of what happened, and now he was in trouble…?

The hand grabbing his shoulder did make Luke jump then.  Being pulled up against Vader’s chest, carefully maneuvered around the control box for his respirator, just left him  _ confused.  _ His mouth worked, trying to ask what he was doing, but the other hand going to his hair helped him figure it out quickly enough.  He was fairly certain not many people alive could say they had been comforted by  _ Darth Vader  _ before, but…

Those screams came fresh to his mind again, and he found himself burying his face against his mentor’s armored shoulder.


	5. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this seems like a filler chapter already, even though there are important events happening. The chapter originally covered up to the battle of Yavin, but it was getting far, far too long. I needed to split things off, but there was no good place to do so, leading to the addition of more background story and moments involving Teak that aren't as fleshed out in my original draft.
> 
> If you want to get updates on my progress writing the story and have an account, you can follow me on [Pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/SkylaDoragono). There will also be some plotting and brainstorming posts on there, and I'll be happy to answer questions as well, as long as they don't spoil the story. If you don't have a Pillowfort account, they are accepting more 4th wave sign ups; you can find more information [on this post](https://pillowfort.io/posts/40670).

Teak was not sure if they had captured a ship, or some floating garbage.  Either way, he frowned at the… _thing_ sitting in a now restricted docking bay from the window he was at, tilting his head and wishing he could get a closer look at it, if only to say he did.  A YT-1300 freighter from the Corellian shipyards, that was what Luke said it was; apparently it was a favored ship for smugglers because of its size and speed, not to mention how easy they were to customize.  Whoever owned her must have had all the skills of a mynock, however; even from the distance he was at, he could spot several issues that could be dealt with in better ways, and he did not even have _half_ the skill that Luke did.  Part of him wondered if his buddy had already asked Dad Vader to let him have the ship when they were done investigating it.  It was not hard to imagine him looking at that thing and crying at the many electronic indecencies it was suffering.

Teak let out a sigh, pushing himself away from the observation window and starting down the hall that would eventually take him to the Black’s ready room.  He was bored already, and he had not even been grounded for a full day yet. At least things had seemed to calm down with his best buddy, more or less, though he was still worried.  Luke was not the kind of person to go really quiet about something unless it was a big deal, but since they had set foot on this stupid station he had been nothing _but_ quiet, often looking like he was listening for something that no one else could hear.  That was frustrating enough on its own, but then he had to go pass out like he did, and then Vader…

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice the stormtrooper until he collided into him.  He stumbled, fumbling out an apology, before he paused, looking _up._ There was an actual _wookiee_ behind the man, and he felt a jab of panic before he spotted the cuffs half hidden in the creature’s fur.  Oh, of course it was a prisoner; what other reason would a trooper have to escort a wookiee around?

“Hey,” the trooper began, “can you tell me which lift goes to the detention block?  First time on this side of the station.”

Teak could not help the smile that crept onto his face; he certainly understood that one.

“Sure; it’s that one,” he replied, pointing out the turbolift in question.

“Thanks,” the trooper replied, grabbing the wookiee by the arm.

Teak stared after them a moment, tilting his head curiously.  Was it him, or was that wookie being awfully cooperative…? Maybe it was just drugged to make walking him around easier.  He shrugged to himself after a moment, before continuing on his way.

~.oOOo.~

_“Tell me again what became of my father.”_

_She dreamed of Alderaan, of her home, of her room looking out over the mountains.  It was the day she learned she had been accepted as Alderaan’s new senator, replacing her father — the man that adopted her.  The news had come as a surprise, even to her — she was eighteen, making her the youngest person to ever be accepted to such an important role, both on Alderaan and in the Empire.  Perhaps they thought her easily manipulated; they were in for a rude surprise if that was the case. She was, of course, a child of the Organa family, even if she had not been born to it; and what was more, what she lacked in political prowess, she made up for in the seven years she spent training with the elderly man before her._

_“I’ve told you at least a dozen times this year alone, young Leia,” Obi-Wan Kenobi replied, his tired old eyes alight with amusement.  “Why ask again?”_

_“Master, I will be in a place where I have every chance to encounter my father’s murderer,” she replied.  “I need to hear it again.”_

_A sad and weary look came to her mentor’s face then, one that he always wore when speaking of her father.  He reached out for her, and she pointedly ignored the tremor in his hands as he held her by her arms. His health had been failing him for some time, and she was beginning to suspect that the more the days wore on, the more he drew on the Force just to get up and moving in the morning._

_“Leia, think not of seeking vengeance,” he entreated her softly.  “That path leads to the Dark Side, and you are this galaxy’s only hope.  I don’t want to see you lost like I lost Vader.”_

_She wanted to protest, to say that she had every reason to seek vengeance on his former apprentice outside of what he did to her family.  He was a murderer, had killed countless Jedi and continued to kill others as he saw fit. If such a thing as monsters existed, he would definitely be one of them!  Obi-Wan’s soft smile had her hold her tongue, however._

_“You will confront Vader in due time, Leia,” he assured her softly.  “Though you must do so as a Jedi; not as a lost girl confronting the man that betrayed and murdered her father.”_

It was a lie.

Leia slowly opened her eyes, staring dispassionately at the walls of her cell.  It had always been hard for her to accept her master’s story of what became of her father — her birth father — but she had no reason not to trust his words until now.  No man that had mercilessly slaughtered Jedi would have tried to stop Tarkin, and he certainly would not have protected her against the feeling of Alderaan’s destruction.  She knew she would not have been able to withstand it without his aid; the tremendous loss of life alone would have made her sick, not to mention the emotional attachment she had to her people.  Everyone in the room would have known she was at least Force sensitive then, and it was very likely she would have been ordered killed on the spot.

More than just protecting her, however, Vader had also let her be in her cell, not bothering with extra security or even offering her a chance of salvation in the form of corruption.  It was… odd, and not the behavior of a man that would “kill” her father and countless others.

Not that it mattered at the moment, seeing as she was still going to die.

Even now, she could hear the sounds of booted feet outside, moving quickly, knowing they were coming for her.  Leia let out a sigh, pushing herself up, refusing to go to her death with anything other than dignity despite the heavy loss that weighed on her shoulders.  To her surprise, however, when the door to her cell opened, only one trooper came inside, stopping cold when he saw her. For a moment, nothing happened, and Leia raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was waiting for.

“Tarkin only sent one trooper to execute me?” she asked humorlessly.  “I’m almost insulted.”

Surprisingly, the trooper let out a muttered curse, reaching up to pull off his helmet…

“No executions for you today, Your Highness-ness.”

Leia’s eyes slowly widened as she took in the tousled brown hair and the roguish, lopsided smile.  There was a scar on his chin from some knife wound that had not been there before, and the face looking at her was older now, but it was still one she would not have been able to mistake for anyone else.

_“Han!”_

She could not help herself; she sprang from the bench she had been sitting on, throwing her arms around the smuggler’s neck in a fierce hug.  Han stiffened in her arms, and she swore she could feel heat radiating off the smuggler’s face before he pushed her away.

“Let’s save the tearful reunions for after we get outta here, okay?” he replied, trying to sound dismissive and failing miserably.  She did not get the chance to call him out on it, as he was grabbing her hand tight the next moment, tugging her away from the cell.

~.oOOo.~

The princess was escaping, but Vader could not find it in himself to care.  He had suspected that the ship that had suddenly arrived at Alderaan’s remains was some kind of Rebel ship, someone crazy enough to attempt a rescue, but he had not sensed anything out of the ordinary, largely because, as usual, his thoughts were on Luke.  Something was coming… something was going to happen very soon, and the boy would be central to it. The Force kept needling at him, warning him, and the thought that something could happen to him…

Tarkin would not give him the time to think; while he was apathetic to the princess’s escape, the Grand Moff was absolutely livid.  He had just ordered her termination after discovering her lie about Dantooine; clearly, that was not going to be happening now, if it ever was, and Vader could not help but smirk behind his mask.  Even without someone coming to her aid, the princess was resourceful and resilient enough to have found a way to escape on her own; if he did not already have Luke at his side, attempting to corrupt her would have been a worthwhile endeavor, even if she reminded him of…

“If I didn’t know any better, Lord Vader, I would think you were enjoying this,” Tarkin’s voice interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.  He cocked his head at the governor, slightly amused by his audacity.

“I fail to see how the present situation could be enjoyable,” he rumbled, earning himself a glare.

“You’ve made your stance in regards to this station quite clear,” Tarkin replied, a sneer coming to his gaunt face.  “The Emperor knows the Death Star will be the fist that ensures the obedience of star systems that would dare to oppose him.  That is why he dissolved the senate once it was clear this station was operational. It is our duty to ensure that no Rebel upstarts get any ridiculous notion that there is even a possibility of destroying it.”

Tarkin clasped his hands behind his back, that sneer turning into one of his thin smiles.  Vader did not need the warning that spiked in the Force to know he was not going to like what was said next.

“Though perhaps you feel your _duties_ lay elsewhere, my friend.”

Vader shifted, staring the older man down.

“State what you mean, Moff,” he ordered, his tone alone telling him he had best choose his words carefully.  Tarkin did not seem to care, either too drunk on the power the station gave him, assured by his favor in the Emperor’s eyes, or too confident in what he had to say.

“You have an interesting assemblage of pilots in your personal squadron, Lord Vader,” he replied.  “I could not help but look into them. I find the one _most_ intriguing.  He reminds me of an old _friend_ from the Clone Wars…”

Vader may well have stopped breathing if his respirator would allow it, clenching his teeth enough to hurt as he seethed in rage.  Tarkin took his silence as a victory, pressing his attack.

“I wonder how the Emperor would feel knowing his own right hand was harboring someone related to the Jedi of old,” he mused.

“Skywalker was a friend and ally to the Emperor,” he snapped without thinking.  “There is no reason for him to care.”

Tarkin’s expression did not change, but Vader could see the triumph in his eyes all the same.  He had fallen into a trap, and the room nearly trembled with his rage. Of course, his immediate thought was to strangle him and be done with it, but he had to force himself to dismiss it.  The only reason Tarkin had this power and the Emperor’s favor was because of his military prowess; he was far too valuable an asset, and his doctrine of obedience through fear was one his master embraced fully.  Killing him intentionally would cause more problems than it would solve.

Now if, say, something were to happen where he was killed in battle…

Tarkin approached him, still favoring him with that thin smile.

“Perhaps you should not be so certain of how the Emperor would feel about such things,” he replied, a predatory gleam coming to his eyes as he stared directly into Vader’s through his mask.   _“Anakin.”_

It was through sheer force of will that Vader reigned himself in, kept his anger from boiling over until Tarkin left the room.  Once the door slid closed, however, he let it all out at once, completely flattening all furniture in the room to the tune of screeching, stressed metal.

~.oOOo.~

Leia pressed herself close to Han’s side as they peered around the corner, into the docking bay where the _Falcon_ was being kept.  Security around the ship was light, and they could all tell it was clearly a trap to bait them into trying to make a break for it, but there were still more stormtroopers there than she would have liked.  Getting to the ship would still be difficult, especially since they had no way of approaching stealthily. Han had been forced to abandon his armor, and even if they managed to steal another set each, there was still the issue of Chewbacca and the droids…

Speaking of…

“Where are Threepio and Artoo?” she whispered.

Han paused, scanning the room, before nodding to a hallway in sight of theirs.  She saw C-3PO’s familiar gold finish — looking quite a bit tarnished compared to the last time she had seen him — but most importantly, she could see R2’s dome.  He seemed to know she was watching him, because a hatch opened on his head, something cylindrical popping up…

Leia took a deep breath at the sight of it, closing her eyes as she reached out for calm in the Force.  It responded to her readily, as if anxious for her to make use of it.

“I have an idea,” she said, glancing up at Han.  “It’s a crazy idea, but it will work.”

Han raised an eyebrow.  “Crazier than escaping into a garbage chute?”

Chewie let out a faint rumble at that, almost like a muttered, “Too soon.”  Leia tried not to smile, knowing Han would be going for this even if she did say this plan was crazier.

“Just be ready to run to the _Falcon_ and get her started,” she entreated softly, giving his arm a squeeze.

She left his side then, walking out into the docking bay with all the casualness of someone that worked on the station, rather than a prisoner.  Han swore loudly, reaching for her a moment, before following after, trying to mimic her casualness. It came out stiff and awkward, and any other time Leia may have taken the chance to turn back and shake her head at him.  Chewie was not that far behind, the droids emerging from their hiding spot soon after. R2 let out a soft boop as he sped ahead, coming to Leia’s side.

They were several feet away from the _Millennium Falcon_ before they were stopped, and she could sense the incredulousness of the two troopers easily enough.

“Hold it right there!  Just what do you think you’re—”

Leia cut him off, drawing the Force into her voice as she commanded, “You _will_ allow us to pass.”

Han stood stiffly behind her, his grip tight on his blaster and a collection of swears running rampant in his mind.  She refused to let herself be distracted, watching as the troopers stood back, their confusion clear.

“We… we will allow you to pass.”

Chewie rumbled softly, but Han did not need to be told twice.  The two of them ran for the _Falcon,_ drawing the attention of the other troopers.  Someone shouted for them to stop, but Leia kept her focus on the two before her.

“You will help us escape!” she ordered, and the troopers under her command immediately turned around, raising their blasters.

“We will help you escape, your highness!” the one declared, firing his weapon on his own comrades.

Chaos erupted just as she saw Han and Chewie duck into the ship, with 3PO not that far behind.  Leia was already reaching back, even before her first protector went down, and R2 responded immediately, popping out the cylinder he had been holding onto for her.  The familiar weight settled comfortably in her hand, calling to her protectively and lovingly.

As only a father could love his daughter.

Her second protector went down as her father’s lightsaber came to life in her hands, ready to defend her and the _Falcon_ until they could leave.

~.oOOo.~

Luke was gnawing on his lip, an uncomfortable feeling of restlessness settling in his gut.  The longer he spent on this battlestation — the Death Star, as Vader had called it, and he had a feeling he was not even supposed to know that much — the more unsettled he became.  He had tried to keep himself preoccupied in the ready room, but he did not have anything with him he could fiddle with — all of the projects he had picked up in the last few months were either in his locker on the _Devastator_ or left behind on Mustafar — and the holovid playing the usual news was only so entertaining for so long.  There was nothing to do but sit around and think, and he just could not do that.

The walk he had been on for the last few minutes proved to be just as useless as sitting around the ready room, however.  At first, he tried to explore, looking around for that strange something that had been calling for him since he arrived on the station.  Trying to follow that sensation only led to restriction after restriction, and until he finally had to sheepishly use the lame excuse that he was lost in order to avoid time in the brig.  He gave up on trying to find the source after a few hours, and tried going to the maintenance bay to see if he could assist, but the crew there shunned him, rather rudely at that. He went to his TIE fighter next, to see if there was anything he could tinker with there to improve her performance, but she was still in good shape from the last time he had worked on her systems.

Trying to practice the Force was useless in this place; there were too many distractions and there did not seem to be a private place anywhere.  He had almost given up and allowed himself to settle into misery, allow himself to wallow in the desire of getting off this terrible station, when he felt the Force suddenly _surge,_ bringing with it that feeling of familiarity that had been gnawing at him since Scarif.  Luke immediately broke out into a run, trailing after that sensation like it was leading him along by a lure.  Whoever was on the other end was Force sensitive and actually trained; he could not feel the same level of experience as Vader, but they were just as tightly controlled as he was.

Luke came to a sliding stop at an observation window overlooking the YT-1300 freighter they had captured earlier.  Only instead of remaining peacefully docked, the ship was coming alive, the bottom guns shooting down troopers that were trying to disable it.  Whoever was in that thing had to be out of their minds; the tractor beam on the station would pull them back immediately… right?

The ship swung around to leave for open space, giving Luke a look inside the cockpit for the briefest of moments.  He barely noticed the man and his wookiee co-pilot; instead his focus was on the woman that burst breathlessly into the cockpit.  Her face was flushed from adrenaline, her braided hair very nearly falling out, with wisps sticking out in all directions. She looked like she was going to say something to the pilot, but stopped, her eyes immediately locking with Luke’s.

_I know you…_

It was such a powerful thought that Luke knew he was not the only one thinking it.  But there was nothing he could do about it; the ship was coming about, taking away the image of the woman as it blasted out of the docking bay.

~.oOOo.~

“They’re tracking us.”

Leia did not need to tell him that; Han knew the moment they only sent out four lousy TIE fighters after them, and he _especially_ knew when the gold dome said he and R2 had not been able to dismantle the tractor beam that had dragged them into this mess.  It was obvious they were being let go, and his hands were flying over the scanner controls, trying to find where they had attached a damn tracer on his beloved ship.

_“Han.”_

“I know, I know!” he snapped back, just as the scanner got a hit.  “There it is, Chewie, go rip it out.”

“No, wait!”

Chewie paused midway out of his seat, and the both of them turned and stared at Leia like she had lost her mind.  She still held herself up despite the looks aimed at her, and Han pointed behind him at the hyperspace that swirled outside the cockpit window, as if the Death Star was still hot on their tail, as he struggled to say something.  Leia finally held her hands up in a placating gesture, her expression serious.

“I know, Han; normally I would agree with destroying a tracer,” she began, “but leading them right to the Rebellion base on Yavin is the best hope we have of destroying that thing.”

Han felt like his eyes were going to fall out of his head with everything Leia was throwing at them.  It was a moment before he could find his voice, nodding back to the crew lounge where they had left the droids.

“So that Artoo unit—?”

“Is carrying the technical readouts of that battlestation, yes,” Leia finished for him.  “We learned of its existence a few days ago, and that the man responsible for its design had deliberately built a weakness into the system.  We _need_ to take advantage of that weakness, or more planets will—”

She cut herself off, and Han would have needed to be blind to miss the fact that her calm was a fake front; that even the thought of what that thing could do — what it _already_ did — was enough to break it.  He wanted to snap at her, but with that look on her face, he could not do it.  Instead he let out a frustrated noise, falling back against the pilot’s seat.

“...I did not sign up for this,” he grumbled, drawing a small smile out of the princess.

“I know,” she replied.  “I… honestly didn’t think you would answer my message.”

Han could hear the door open behind him as she turned to leave, but it did not close right away.  She was lingering in the doorway, and he did not need to be looking to know she had turned back toward him.

“...but I’m glad you did.”

She left then, leaving Han sitting there, his face scrunched up almost comically.  Chewie glanced at him, a fuzzy eyebrow raised, before warbling faintly.

“Yeah… yeah,” Han answered, letting out a defeated sigh as he glared in the direction of the navigation panel.  He had the distinct feeling that if parts of the ship could still talk, they would be mocking him right now. “Get ready to jump to Yavin as soon as we come outta hyperspace.”

Chewie grumbled and acknowledgement as Han thumped his head against the back of the seat.

~.oOOo.~

The Death Star felt alive for the first time since Luke got there.  Troopers and officers were going through the halls at breakneck paces, getting to their stations so they could be on ready for whenever they got to their destination.  All active pilots were in the hangers, on standby, in the event the Rebels proved just how insane they really were. It was vital they consider every possibility; word had come down that they were heading for the main Rebel base.  They did not know what to expect when they got there, just that the main goal was to destroy it, and…

...and Luke did not know how to feel.

He was pretty sure he was supposed to be excited.  They were finally dealing a blow to the Rebels they very much deserved after the Academy attack.  Having the opportunity to strike at their base, even if he was not the one pulling the trigger, should have been a good thing.

He might have believed that if they had not just destroyed a planet full of millions of innocent people.

Luke was drawn out of his thoughts by Teak, who had been pacing the length of the ready room, before finally giving in to his frustration and punching a wall.  He raised an eyebrow at his friend as he shook his hand out, grumbling under his breath.

“We should be doing _something,_ dammit!” he groused, going back to pacing.  “This isn’t right. None of this is _right.”_

Luke frowned, agreeing with him, but having mixed feelings on how to deal with it.  He really wished he had been able to talk with Vader for longer after his collapse, but responsibilities had called the other man away.  If he had, maybe he could have some kind of peace of mind about all this.

And then there was that woman...

“Hey, what’s that popping noise…?”

Teak’s question dragged Luke back to reality once again, and he paused, listening and catching the familiar sound of electronics popping.  His senses started to tap lightly on the back of his mind, letting him know who was coming, as if he could not already figure it out. He was standing up as Lord Vader entered the room, Teak coming close to yelping as he scrambled to attention.  Vader regarded them cooly a moment, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“This battlestation will soon be engaging the Rebel force at Yavin,” he announced.  “I will have you two as my wingmen for this battle, should the need arise.”

Luke did not need to be looking at Teak to know he was struggling to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head.  There was more to this, and he remained silent, waiting for Vader to continue.

“I have a very important task for the two of you, one I know you can assist me with while using the utmost discretion,” his mentor said, pausing to eye them both once again.  His eyes seemed to linger on Teak, as if he was not entirely sure that was true of him, but he was trusting him anyway. “We are going to allow the Rebels to destroy this Death Star.”

Teak’s mouth may as well have hit the floor.

“We’re—?!”

Luke elbowed him sharply.

“We’re what?” Teak asked, his voice significantly lower than before.  “No disrespect, my lord, but it feels like you’re trying to pin us as Rebel sympathizers.”

Were it anyone else, and considering how loudly Teak had been grumbling before, Luke would have agreed.  But this was Lord Vader, and though he had only been studying under him for a few months, he understood that he worked on a different level from everyone else, one that extended far beyond anything Imperial or Rebellion.  Anything that could affect the Force was so much more vitally important than any kind of conflict the two sides could come up with.

“We’re doing this because of what this thing can do,” he said, having a feeling he was looking right into Vader’s eyes despite the mask separating them.  “What happened before — it was because this thing killed people on such a large scale, everyone in the galaxy probably felt _something.”_

Vader nodded wordlessly, while Teak looked back and forth between the two of them, confused.  His friend bit his lip a moment, before he nudged against Luke’s arm.

“Well, I’m in?” he replied, not sounding very sure yet that this was not a trap, but trusting in Luke and his relationship with the Dark Lord.  He spared his friend a small, reassuring smile, before turning back to his mentor.

“Me too.  What do we need to do?”

Vader was radiating approval, and Luke had to fight against another smile.

“For now, continue as normal,” he answered.  “Until we know the Rebel’s plan of attack, there is little we can do.  However, their Jedi princess and the Force will be integral, of that there is little doubt.”

Teak, expectedly, had confusion radiating off of him in waves, but Luke ignored it for the moment.  Right now, all he could feel was the anticipation that ran rampant through the station, magnified exponentially in that room.  The feeling of deep, profound sadness still called out to him as well, almost like whatever was doing it could sense what they were planning and _wanted_ it more than anything.  Whatever that was, he had a feeling he could not let it down, just like he could not let his mentor down.

“I understand, my lord,” he said.  “We’ll wait for your orders.”

Vader nodded in approval, sparing them both another glance, before leaving the ready room.  Luke smiled faintly after him, only to feel the force of Teak staring at the side of his head a moment later.  He turned to him, taking in that confused stare and the question that was trying to make its way out of his mouth, and he could not help but laugh softly.

“Teak, you look like a Mon Calamari like that.”

He snapped his mouth shut, a grimace working its way onto his face as he started piecing things together.

“...you were sneaking off to see Lord Vader on Mustafar, weren’t you?” he asked.  Luke must have had a womp rat in headlights look on his face, because he immediately let out a triumphant noise.  “You were! You got powers like he does, don’t you? That’s why all that mumbling about the Force and Jedi? And— oh _stars,_ he’s training you, isn’t he?!   _That’s_ why you can keep up with him!”

_“Teak…!”_ Luke hissed, wishing he would keep his voice down.  At least that did make him lower it, if only a little.

“You do know what that means though, right?” he asked excitedly.  “Nevermind acting like your dad, he’s chosen you as his _heir.”_

Luke swallowed hard, his face paling as the image of him commanding the Imperial fleet sprang fresh into his mind again.  Was he the one doing it because Lord Vader had ascended the throne? But there were so many people that would be better for that kind of responsibility, that had more experience than he could ever hope to have…

_But those people don’t have the Force,_ a traitorous thought whispered in the back of his mind.  He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“Teak, Vader knew my father,” he said softly.  “He knew he was a Jedi Knight, and he knew I was his son the moment I gave him my name.  Were I anyone else’s kid, were he anyone else, I would have been spaced on sight. Instead he gave me what I wanted and looked after me, out of respect for my father.  Still _is_ looking out for me.  Just… let me keep thinking of him as a mentor; everything else is just… too much right now.”

Teak held his gaze for a moment, before slowly nodding his understanding.

“All right, I get it,” he replied softly, before a grin crept up on his face.  “You gotta tell me about this stuff though; it sounds amazing.”

Luke let out a laugh at that, ducking his head.

“When this is over, I’ll tell you everything.”


	6. Sacrifices

A two meter wide, ray shielded shaft.

It was the weakness that Galen Erso had left into the design of the Death Star, and it seemed utterly impossible.  The pilots looked uncomfortable when General Dodonna announced what the plan of attack was, one going so far as to point out that even a computer could not hit a target that small.  He was not wrong; it would take the finest tuned targeting equipment in the galaxy to hit something of that size with a proton torpedo. They had nothing like that in the Rebellion, assuming the technology even existed in the first place.

But they _did_ have the Force.

As the pilots started to break up, Leia immediately went to the general.  It almost seemed like he knew what she going to say, because he did not meet her gaze, focusing on the screen displaying the Death Star schematics.

“General, I need to fly with them.”

Dodonna stared at the screen a moment longer, before he let out a sigh, his gaze turning downward.

“Your father would not be pleased if I agreed to such a thing,” he pointed out.

“My father isn’t among us anymore, General,” she pointed out, “and it would be a disservice to his name and the people of Alderaan if I could do something, but did nothing.”

Another sigh escaped from the aging general, before he finally turned, focusing on her briefly, his gaze heavy with the look of a man that had seen one too many young lives lost in war.  He looked away almost immediately, catching the attention of two pilots that lingered in the room: the one that had spoken before, and another with a thick, dark moustache.

“Antilles, Darklighter, help the princess get suited up,” the general ordered.  The two exchanged wide eyed looks, before turning those looks to Leia. “I’ll inform your squad leader she’ll be joining you.”

The general left then, leaving the two men gaping in disbelief.  Leia smiled faintly, their feelings on the matter made very clear to her, though it was through sheer force of will that she ignored the stray “babysitter” thoughts.

“Would it help you gentlemen if I said I was in your hands?” she asked, even though her tone alone indicated well enough it would be quite the opposite.  The moustachioed one shifted on his feet.

“Sorry, ma’am, just—”

“Leia,” she interrupted.  “Call me Leia. Right now, neither my status nor my age has any meaning.  I’ve been piloting various crafts since I was tall enough to see over the controls, and I’ve been training as a Jedi since I was eleven.  I assure you, I _will_ destroy this monster.”

The outspoken one was gaping at her at the mention of Jedi, a disbelieving look on his face.  After a moment, however, he snapped his mouth closed, deciding not to question her. The other had a small smile on his face under that moustache, a fond look on his face, like he was remembering something important.

“For a moment there, you reminded me of an old friend,” he replied, before offering his hand.  “Biggs Darklighter. Pleasure to be flying with you, Leia.”

“Wedge Antilles,” the other man introduced as Leia clasped Biggs’ hand.  “C’mon, let’s get you a suit; we don’t have that much time.”

The Death Star was due any minute; it did not take long to find a flight suit in her size, but it still felt too long. The urge to run as she came out into the hanger gnawed at the base of her spine, never mind she knew both her ship and anything involving flight assignment would have already been taken care of by the ground crews by now. It was nervous energy that had her feeling like she needed to rush, churning inside of her like an explosion begging to be released, and when she saw Han loading up the _Falcon_ with the reward money he had demanded, it all crashed inside of her so hard she had trouble breathing for a moment. She fought with herself, with her anger, trying to tell herself that ignoring the scoundrel and moving on was the best thing she could do, but her feet betrayed her, marching her in his direction instead of toward the fighters.

Han looked up as she approached, taking in her flight gear and very nearly dropping the box he was in the process of lifting on his foot. His mouth worked for a moment as he gestured to the bright orange suit.

“D-don’t tell me you’re actually fighting in this crazy attack?!”

Leia pursed her lips at his exclamation, reminding herself several times of her temper and keeping it in check before she trusted herself enough to speak.

“I have to, Han,” she replied. “You saw why; they will need my abilities up there.”

Again, his mouth worked a moment before he could get words to come out.

“Look, just because you can swing around a fancy glow stick doesn’t mean—”

He cut himself off, running a hand over his face. Leia waited, expecting him to finish that thought, but the words never came, leaving her anger stewing inside of her without something to latch on to. She wanted to snap at him, her face growing hot with the rage she was struggling against. It took far more of an effort than she cared to admit to get a breath forced out of her, taking that anger with it, or at least most of it.

“I know what I need to do, Han; just as you do,” she forced out, turning on her heel and marching off…

“Leia!”

Han’s voice made her stop, and she half turned, expecting some snide comment, but the expression on his face said he did not have one; said there was _a lot_ he wanted to say, but he did not have the words for it. Leia let out a sigh, feeling what remained of her anger dissipate as she returned to him again, pulling her lightsaber from her belt and offering it to him.

“It was my father’s,” she explained. “My birth father.  He was a Jedi and a general in the Clone Wars. Should anything happen to me, find Master Kenobi and return it to him with my apologies.”

Han accepted the weapon reluctantly, looking awkward holding it. He met her gaze, still struggling to say something, before finally settling on:

“May the Force be with you.”

~.oOOo.~

Yavin itself was a gas giant, completely inhospitable to life.  Sure, with a little ingenuity and stubbornness, one could build a floating facility over the surface, if not to live then to harvest the elements the planet’s gaseous surface produced.  But there were safer and cheaper ways to get those same materials, so Yavin itself was largely ignored. Its moons, however, were another story; the fourth moon had a sustainable atmosphere most species could breathe unassisted, with the majority of the surface covered in thick tropical rainforests.  Some civilization had lived there eons ago, leaving behind towering monoliths and massive pyramidal structures in their memory. It was to that moon the tracker placed on the escaped freighter had stopped at, and Tarkin could not help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction as the information lit up the screen before him.  Finally, after years of dealing with riffraff that dared to oppose the Emperor, today he would deal a blow that would ensure no one would raise their voice in so called _rebellion_ ever again.

No matter who they were.

Tarkin allowed himself a thin lipped smile.  Were it years ago, in the Empire’s infancy, he would have never believed the Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader were one and the same.  While they had agreed on a number of points, Skywalker _was_ a Jedi; his beliefs came second to his calling, like all the rest of them.  It made him extremely curious as to what could have possibly happened that night when Palpatine had been attacked and grievously deformed by the Jedi.  It must have been then that Skywalker gave way to Vader; there was no way a man as frail as the Emperor could have fended off senior Jedi on his own.

Still, it mattered little; Skywalker or Vader, despite the armor and the mask and the terror he projected, he was still a naive fool.  Better yet, he was a naive fool with a _weakness,_ and he had already set in motion plans to ensure that weakness would be exploited, so “Lord” Vader would well understand what it meant to truly fear, just like the rest of the galaxy.

Tarkin allowed himself a satisfied smile.  This would be a day long remembered; it would see the downfall of Darth Vader, and soon would see the end of the Rebellion.

~.oOOo.~

“I think we’re lost.”

Luke frowned as he stabbed at the controls for the door in front of him with a stubborn finger, a bad feeling clawing at the back of his mind.  As soon as they felt the Death Star come out of hyperspace, they had left the ready room, fully intending to be near the hanger and ready to fly out as soon as Lord Vader needed them.  It was _supposed_ to be a short walk from the room to the hanger where their ships were docked, but they kept getting turned around, whether it be by personnel that needed to close down an area, or by doors that just did not seem to work.

“I have a bad feeling about this…” he muttered, getting an alarmed look from Teak.

“You know, it’s fifty times more terrifying when you say that now,” he replied, before glancing back the way they came.  “C’mon, let’s head back; maybe there’s a corridor we missed.”

A warning flared through the Force, and Luke grabbed Teak, pulling him back just as a set of blast doors closed where he had been standing.  He stared at it, wide-eyed, as Luke frowned, swearing there was a hissing noise coming from somewhere…

Realization dawned on him the next moment; they were sealed in, and air was being pumped _out_ of the room through the ventilation.  Teak seemed to get what was happening too, if the way his eyes nearly bugged out of his head was any indication.  He tried to say something, but Luke held up a hand, not wanting him to waste what oxygen they had left telling him something he already knew.  They needed to get out, and they probably did not have the time to waste on needless words or him trying to do Vader’s camera crushing trick.

Really, he only had one trick he was confident with in this situation, and he was just glad he had the foresight to bring _one_ thing off of Mustafar.

“Whatever you do,” he began, pulling open the hidden pouch on his flight suit where he was keeping his borrowed lightsaber, “don’t let a single person on the other side of that door live.”

Teak’s eyes seemed to be stuck in a permanent state of _wide,_ especially as Luke ignited the weapon.  He nodded numbly as he fumbled for his blaster, but Luke was not paying attention to him, taking a deep breath before plunging the blade into the durasteel door.  A well of heated, melting metal sprang up around the blade, feeling like it was burning the oxygen around it, and he knew he was going to have to work fast if they were going to make it out alive.

~.oOOo.~

TK-421 was having a bad day.

Looking over the ship that had been dragged into the station while a scanning crew checked it over for life forms had seemed easy enough.  Just stand outside, and help out if the guys inside needed it; no big deal, right? Except it was a big deal when he answered a call for help, walking inside the ship and coming face to face with an angry, furry wall.  He woke up hours later, stripped down to his boxers and covered in wookiee fur, with his commanding officer screaming bloody murder.

Of course, when he was given the chance to save face, he jumped on it; kill a couple of traitors by making it look like an accident?  Sure, he could do that; he knew the right people to bribe to help him with it too. It would not be too hard to trap them in a corridor and have an “accidental” air filter system malfunction.  On a station this large, stuff malfunctioned all the time; no one would be any wiser.

Apparently it was too much to expect something to go right, because one of those kriffing traitors was carrying a damn plasma cutter.  How the hell had they guy managed to hide something like that on him anyway? Those coffin jockey uniforms did not have much room in them for anything other than a blaster and a couple of supplies.  Still, it did not matter, right? There was no way they would be able to cut all the way through that door (which they were doing, quite quickly at that), and not have all the air burn off in that small space _and_ still have enough air to function, let along push a heavy chunk of durasteel door out of the way.

As that piece of door was finished being cut through, and then suddenly sent flying toward TK-421 and the men he had gathered, his last thought was a wish that the wookiee had just put him out of his misery.

~.oOOo.~

If ever there was a possibility for Leia to be out of her element, it was in the cockpit of her X-wing.  Yes, she was a good pilot — her father had told her multiple times since Master Kenobi had come to them that she inherited her skills from her birth father — but she had never been in a dogfight before, or even a simulator, and it showed rather painfully.  More often than she cared to admit, either Biggs or Wedge had to come to her rescue. It was humbling, to say the least, but she knew that part of the issue was she was keeping herself distracted. They really could not waste any more time dancing around the turrets and TIE fighters; they _needed_ to let her make a run into that trench already.

Except that clearly, she was not going to get her chance any time soon.  Gold Group was going for the shaft first; they were a group of Y-wing bombers, so they were the natural choice to head in.  They were equipped with much more proton torpedoes than the faster X-wings, and made for bombing runs like this. The issue was, they were slower than TIE fighters and so far had been easy targets for them, and their numbers had not been very many to begin with, given the losses they had suffered at Scarif.

Also, she was not flying one.

She opened her mouth to object as their last three pulled out of the trench after a failed run, only to swallow her words as a TIE fighter latched onto her tail.  She immediately put her ship into a dive, letting the turbo laser battery that had been taking aim at her as well pick off the fighter instead, before destroying the laser herself.  The sheer amount of fighters and turrets the station was bristling with was staggering; never mind the main gun, the additional firepower alone was more than enough to devastate a planet!

“You alright there, Red Five?” Biggs’ voice came in over her headset, and she shook her head at the worry in his voice.  She needed to pull it together; she would get her chance in that trench soon. She _had to._

“Just surprised me; won’t happen again,” she assured him, trying to ignore how her heart was pounding.  It took her a moment to realize it was not just _her_ nerves affecting her; a familiar feeling started pawing at the back of her mind, much the same way it had when she had seen that young pilot on the Death Star…

She frowned, staring down at the station below her as she reached out through the Force, but other than knowing he was nearby, she could not pinpoint exactly where he was.  All she could really sense was irritation spiked with determination, and it made her wonder just what was going on down there…

~.oOOo.~

Luke and his friend were late, and all Vader could feel when he tried to look for him was a deep seated feeling of annoyance.  He tried to poke at their bond, to see what it was that had him so irritated, but Luke did not seem to be able to grasp how to respond yet; just that sensing Vader looking for him was enough to get him to calm down, if only a little.

His attention was drawn away a moment later by Tanbris.  The man saluted, waiting until there were no troopers nearby, before giving his report in a low voice.

“It was as you said, my lord,” he began, “I had to fight to get information from tactics analysis.”

Vader fumed silently; he had a feeling Tarkin would try to make him look like a disgrace during this battle.  Add to that Luke’s mood, and he had a feeling the governor had planned to do more than just make him _look_ incompetent.  He was getting a mental picture that he very much wished would end with him wringing that frail old neck with his bare hands, but there was no time to satisfy that.

“And what did you find?”

“There are small groups of enemy fighters that keep breaking off from the main group, my lord,” Tanbris answered.  “It seems they’re attempting to shoot proton torpedoes into an exhaust vent down one of the trenches.”

Vader paused, a frown on his face.  Those vents were supposed to be impossibly small and ray shielded; to attempt to hit such a ridiculously unlikely target meant that the vent either led to the main laser’s power feed, or the main power system itself.  The former would severely cripple the station; the latter…

“Good work, Lieutenant,” he replied.  “I have another important task for you…”

Tanbris nodded slowly as he received his orders, concern registering on his face, but he did not voice it.  He saluted once Vader was done, starting off to begin his new mission, just as Luke and Windsor marched into the docking bay.  The latter already had his helmet on, and Luke was in the process of doing the same, giving Vader a clear view of the _scowl_ on his face before it disappeared behind the black mask.  It just reminded him that it was very likely Tarkin tried to harm the boy, and he could not help but smirk humorlessly.  It was perhaps lucky for the Grand Moff that Luke’s TIE fighter was not equipped with proton torpedoes, else he was very likely to shoot down the station himself.

“You’re late,” he rumbled once they were close enough, causing Luke’s annoyance to spike.

“We, uh… had some door trouble?” Windsor replied, taking a furtive glance at Luke, and Vader could only imagine as to why.  “But we’re ready, my lord!”

Luke was already stalking toward where his fighter was docked, muttering something about how bad the air quality was on the station.

~.oOOo.~

“Sir?”

Tarkin turned from the tactical display before him, showing the battle raging outside in the form of small icons, to raise an eyebrow at how soft spoken Admiral Motti was being.  Any other time, the man would be loudly declaring what he wanted to say, as he so often proved in the past. Now, however, there was genuine _concern_ on the man’s face, to the point where his complexion was almost ashen.

“We’ve analyzed their attack pattern, and there is a danger,” he explained softly.  “Shall I have your ship standing by?”

Tarkin stared in disbelief.  “Evacuate? In our moment of triumph?  I think you overestimate their chances.”

Motti looked like he was going to reply, when he paused, distracted by the display over Tarkin’s shoulder.

“...it seems Lord Vader recognizes the danger as well.”

Tarkin’s head whipped around, staring at the screen.  Sure enough, the transponder on Vader’s ship was responding to the tactical feed, making an icon for it appear on the screen, heading for the trench the Rebels had been so keen on getting into.

“...on second thought, yes,” Tarkin murmured.  “Have my ship readied immediately.”

Admiral Motti nodded, but Tarkin barely paid him any mind, his eyes on Vader’s icon, flanked by two others marked Black Five and Six.  He narrowed his eyes; clearly, the effort to destroy the boy had been for nothing, and he doubted the Dark Lord was just going to let the attempt go…

~.oOOo.~

Out of the thirty ships they had brought into the battle, only seven remained.  One was a Y-wing that had used up the last of its payload and was told to steer clear.  The rest was Red Squadron X-wings, Leia, Biggs, and Wedge included. They had been doing well against the fighters that swarmed them, though more than a few had fallen to them.  The rest had been destroyed in the trench, either to turbo laser fire, or the three TIE fighters that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, managing to shoot down anyone that made it to the end of the trench and failed to hit the target.

On top of all this, she _still_ was not being allowed to make her own run for that vent shaft.

“Red Leader, _please,”_ she pleaded over the com as she pulled out to a safe place with Biggs and Wedge as they had been ordered.  “Let me do this instead! There’s been enough life lost today!”

“Negative, Red Five,” Red Leader’s voice responded, leaving Leia watching helplessly as he and his wingmen entered the trench.  “Just keep an eye out for those fighters.”

Leia could feel her anger building, making her cheeks hot despite the coolness of the cockpit.  If they had just let her in there right away, they would still have so many pilots still alive, and the Death Star would be _gone,_ without ever having been a threat to the moon and their base.  Even now, she was fairly sure the battlestation was just moments from clearing the planet, which meant it would be in position to use its primary weapon on the base any minute now.

“Red Leader—”

“Princess,” he cut her off, and something in the tone of his voice made her freeze in her seat.  “There are over a million people on that battlestation, but it was only a few of them that looked at the billions on Alderaan and decided that was an acceptable loss of life.  Can you, as one person, look at that million people and say the same?”

Leia knew she had to say something, answer him somehow, but all the words she could have possibly used, all the training she had as a senator and future queen, completely failed her.  Part of her wanted to yell, to ask if saddling her with survivor’s guilt was really an acceptable alternative for trying to keep blood off her hands, but she could not get those words to come either.  Red Leader and his wingmen were throwing their lives away, and for the first time in her life, Leia hesitated, because she just could not answer that question.

“...Force be with you, Red Leader,” was all she could get out, swallowing back a pained sob as she took one hand off the control yolk of her ship, covering her eyes.  She could not sit back and watch it play out again, could not watch the ships that had been picking them off emerge, killing off the wingmen easily. Red Leader made a successful shot at the vent, but the computer failed to hit the target, leaving the torpedoes to impact on the surface.

“Red Leader, turn to point oh-five; we’ll—”

Wedge cut himself off as one of the TIE fighters shot up Red Leader’s X-wing, leaving him screaming into the com as the ship spiraled down to the surface of the Death Star, disappearing in a brief ball of flame, instantly snuffed out by the vacuum of space.

Silence fell over the com, and Leia half expected to hear General Dodonna in the command room on the moon below them, ordering them to leave.  When no such order came, she let out a deep breath, letting her now wet hand drop back to the controls, not bothering to wipe away the stray tears on her face.

“Biggs, Wedge, let’s do this,” she began, maneuvering for the trench.  “We’re going in full throttle; that should put some space between us and those fighters.”

“You sure you’ll be able to maneuver going that fast, Leia?” Wedge asked.

Leia could only smile tightly as the turbo lasers lit up the trench around them, already forcing her to duck and weave her way through as she reached out with her senses, throttling the accelerator as fast as the ship could go.

“The Force _will_ guide me!”

~.oOOo.~

Luke remembered what really got his training in the Force started; about how Vader said his presence was hard to ignore.  He had not really understood what that meant until he was trailing after this last group of X-wings. The Force seemed to surround all three of them, coming from the leading ship.  It was traveling at a breakneck pace, much faster than the other two, yet with the confidence of someone that knew what was going to happen before it did.

“That’s our pilot,” he murmured, not realizing he had spoken out loud until Teak let out a rude noise.

“About time,” he replied.  “What were they thinking, leaving them for last?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Vader’s voice rumbled over the com.  “Get rid of the spares.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Luke let out a breath, a careful eye on his targeting reticule, lining up a shot on the X-wing in front of him, to the right of the leader.  He squeezed the trigger just as the target lock chimed, but just as he did, something _jerked,_ making him miss the kill shot.  If the cursing over the com was any indication, Teak had experienced the same thing.  They still hit their targets at least, crippling one of the engines on each, and before long, the two X-wings lifted out of the trench.

“Let them go; stay on the leader.”

Luke barely acknowledged the order, his focus on the pilot before them.  The Force was practically singing in his ears, and for a moment, he could see nothing but a blazing trail of _life_ lighting up that trench.  He found himself drifting off, drawn into it, and he had a feeling that even if he had tried to struggle, he would not have been able to resist it…

_Who…?_

Luke almost tried to withdraw when he heard her voice, but he stilled himself.  The Force felt like it was echoing around them, bouncing off the walls of the trench and sweeping around them, tying the two of them together.  He could not help but be thrilled by it, looking up and swearing he could see her looking back at him, dressed all in white, with the light spread out behind her like an angel’s wings.

_It’s okay,_ he called out to her. _I promise._

She paused, but it was clear she could sense the truth in his words.  With how entrenched the two of them were in the Force, he doubted it was possible for him to lie.

_Who are you?_

_I’m Luke—_

Awareness suddenly shot through him; someone was here, someone that had not been there before…

...and then someone was gone.

Luke pulled away from the light just in time to see a ball of fire where Teak’s ship had been.  Bits of twisted metal fell to the ground of the trench and Vader was shouting, but he could not hear anything but a dull, static-like noise in his ears.  He forgot how to breathe, how to process what his eyes were telling him he was seeing. His throat closed up, his lungs burned, almost like he was the one that… that had...

_Teak…!_

The Force still had him, at least a little.  He could feel the shock from the pilot ahead of him, echoing his numb pain.  There was something behind them, and he could feel someone’s single minded determination coming from there.  He did not need to look at his display to know it was that damn piece of junk freighter, and that its next target would be…

Luke let out a breath, closing his eyes as he realized what he had to do.

“...forgive me, my lord.  It’s been an honor.”

“Luke—!”

Luke angled his ship toward Lord Vader’s, clipping his wing and sending him spiraling out of control, flinging him far away from the trench and the Death Star.  It put him in the spot his ship had been occupying, leaving Luke to take the laser blast meant for the Dark Lord. His ship shuddered violently as the left wing was sheared clear off, and the last thing he heard was a sickening crunch as his ship hit the side of the trench.


	7. Recovery

Leia could hear the excited cries of everyone on base even before she landed, dozens of people running out to greet her and her ship.  She could not find it in her to share in that jubilation, however; she felt numb, barely able to hold onto the control yolk of the X-wing, and she had a feeling R2 in the droid socket behind her was doing most of the work at the moment.  That agonizing, gut wrenching pain still lingered, making her want to grasp at her chest, and it was only magnified by the sensation of all the death she had just caused, making it infinitely worse. That pilot, the feeling of familiarity that surrounded him, it was all gone now, along with everything else that had to do with the Death Star.

That pilot had not taken a single shot at her.

Neither had Vader.

All those people… all the people on Alderaan…

Nothing, not her training as a senator nor as a Jedi, could have prepared her for the rush of emotion that hit her at that moment.  Her hands flew to her mouth, struggling not to be sick as she fought to breathe. The air felt thick, like it was made of sand; there may as well have not been any air at all.  Her lungs were burning like they were full of lava, traveling up her throat, and—

The canopy of her X-wing suddenly opened, a wave of tropical heat hitting her in the face and doing nothing to help her and the attack she was struggling against.  She could hear Biggs shouting, felt herself being lifted and placed on something hard, but it all seemed like a blur to her until she saw Han hovering into her vision.  His face was tight with worry, and she could feel him grasping her hand, pressing something cool into it.

Leia finally felt herself take a breath, clutching her father’s lightsaber tight to her chest as she closed her eyes.

~.oOOo.~

An alarm going off forced him back into consciousness, and Luke’s head swam as he stared down at his oxygen information, barely processing that it said he only had twenty percent supply left.  How long had he been unconscious? If he could even call what he was right now conscious; his head felt like it was independent of his body, spots dancing before his eyes and darkness clinging to the edges, threatening to pull him back under.  He groaned as he tried to reach for the override, just to get that alarm to shut up.

Tried.

Luke blinked blearily at his right arm, having trouble processing what he was seeing.  His fighter was barely recognizable as a TIE from the inside, with the entire right side caved in from when it hit the side of the trench.  His arm got caught in the collapse, and he could see that his hand and most of his lower arm was crushed. Surprisingly it did not hurt but it  _ was _ uncomfortably warm, and it took him a moment to realize that his flight suit had been torn, leaving his mangled arm exposed to the cold of space.  Part of it had successfully resealed just below his elbow, but he doubted that would help him for very long if he did not patch up the suit... which he could not do, as the patch kit had been on that side of the fighter.

He was alive, but he was going to die.

A sob escaped from Luke’s throat, wasting precious air, but he did not care.  Teak was dead; his best friend, the last friend he had left, was gone. At least he had succeeded in protecting his lord and mentor.  That was something, and hopefully he was far from here by now; and at least they had succeeded. He could clearly see Yavin and its forth moon, even from how far out he was floating, with nothing but a debris cloud to break up the view.  Would his father be proud of him, knowing he had given it all like that?

...but there was so much more he wanted to do…

He felt hot tears trailing down his face, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  Forcing his left hand to move, he smacked off the oxygen alarm and plunged the cockpit into silence.  He was fumbling for his borrowed lightsaber next, but he could not quite manage to get the pocket open.  Weakness dragged at every limb in his body, and it made him wonder how many other injuries he had endured from that crash.

The ship suddenly shifted around him, and the main viewport ripped itself off.  Luke’s head swam as the ship remains lurched, a groan escaping from him as he squinted out of the ship.  Someone hovered into view, and he had to be hallucinating, because he could see the bare, kindly face of a man he swore he had seen once before…

“...f-father…?”

It was really clear to him then that he was dying, if he was hallucinating his father rescuing him.

_ Son… I’m sorry, I have to… _

He heard the sound of a lightsaber (did he really?  But they were in space, he could not have. And was that saber blue?  He was not sure, his vision could not focus around it), and suddenly his right side was free from the wrecked fighter.  He was grabbed in the next moment, pressed close to an armored chest as he was pulled free and out into open space.

Space felt amazingly  _ alive,  _ sparkling green lights dancing around him and his father.  He stared at them, realizing they were actually crystals, all of which seemed to be talking to him at once, crying happily with freedom.  One of those crystals hovered close, like it was thanking him. For what, Luke was not sure, but this hallucination was already strange — talking crystals thanking him did not seem that far of a stretch.

He reached out to the crystal over his father’s broad shoulder, watching as it settled onto his open palm.  It let him close his fingers around it, and he let out a happy sigh as he held it close, sinking back so he could bury his face against his father’s chest.

~.oOOo.~

The  _ Devastator  _ had been Vader’s flagship for some time now.  At first, Admiral Montferrat had been resentful having the Dark Lord on his ship; no one had really known who he was when he first arrived, outside of being the Emperor’s man.  That resentment soon turned to fear, as Vader quickly proved he had little patience for those that did not perform to his high expectations. It may have inspired the ground troops and pilots to perform better, but being an officer was absolutely nerve wracking.  He lost count of how many times he had seen a decent man that could have gone far in the navy laying on the deck, still clutching at his throat as he stared empty eyed at the ceiling. Nearly eleven years he had endured this, hoping and praying the lord would eventually get his own ship, where he could strangle his own crew to his heart’s content.

And then Vader walked onto the bridge holding the hand of a small child.

Montferrat was not stupid; he suspected Vader had some kind of relation to the boy the moment he saw the two of them interacting with each other.  He did not know what that relation was, and he knew he could not ask and keep his life. The changes in Vader after meeting the boy had been significant, however, even if they were not immediately noticeable.  Less of his crew were dying for inane reasons, and Vader seemed to take more of a responsibility for himself and his own well being, something he had not known the lord was not doing. He dared to say the eight years since had almost been a pleasure.

That was why when he personally received the emergency rendezvous order from Lieutenant Tanbris, he knew something was seriously  _ wrong. _

They met somewhere in the mid rim, not far from the industrial planet of Lexrul, though far from any routine Imperial patrol routes.  He knew the ship they were pulling in definitely did not belong to Lord Vader or Tanbris, and he would not have questioned it even if he had the voice to.  He was entirely focused on his lord, leaving the ship with Skywalker’s unconscious body hanging limp in his arms, and thankful he had the foresight to ensure a med team had been present instead of the usual troop assembly.  Even with that team scrambling to assist, Vader seemed reluctant to let got of the boy, finally doing so when the lead medic insisted he needed to be strapped down to a stretcher so they could work on ensuring he was stabilized.  The Dark Lord hovered like a wraith as the team worked, taking a half step toward them as they sped the boy out of the hanger, toward the med bay.

Montferrat could not help but watch the situation before him unfold, an unsettled feeling churning in his gut.  The boy was normally such a vibrant spark of life that seeing him so pale, with the lower part of his right arm missing, reminded him just how small and young he was.  It took him a moment to pull back on the mask of a professional, turning to his lord, only to find himself pausing again. Vader was standing there, still as a statue, and he got the distinct feeling that saying anything would be intruding on something deeply personal.

“I will have the bridge set course for Mustafar, my lord,” he finally said.  He did not need to ask for their destination; Vader’s palace had excellent medical facilities, even if they were largely tailored to ensuring his own care.  Between the  _ Devastator  _ and there, he was certain the boy would be fine.  He was more worried for Vader at the moment; he half feared speaking would have earned him a strangling, but the Dark Lord did not seem to even realize he was  _ there. _

Montferrat took a deep breath, stepping before his lord and forcing him to focus on him instead of the hall the med crew had sped down.  He could see the blood on his armor and cape from his new vantage point, and he had to wonder if any of it actually belonged to Vader.

“My lord, please,” he said softly, nodding after the medical team.  “Go. I will take care of things from here.”

It was a bold plea, and he half expected to be snapped at, but Vader only came out of his numb staring long enough to nod slowly, finally moving toward the med bay.  Montferrat followed after him with his eyes, before letting out a breath he had not realized he was holding, turning his focus to the ship and Tanbris. He would need an official report, and to figure out what to do with whatever ship this was before they reached Mustafar.

He did not care how many lies were in that report, just as long as there was something on record.

~.oOOo.~

Someone holding her hand stirred Leia back to consciousness.  Her head turned immediately toward Han as she opened her eyes, taking in the guilty look on his face from getting caught showing some kind of tenderness.  He did not let go, though, and it was a moment before a lopsided smile made its way onto his face.

“Hey, princess,” he said casually, like she was waking up from a nap instead of passing out from shock.  “Looks like you found a way to keep me around a little longer.”

She smiled weakly, shaking her head.  Like her falling unconscious had anything to do with it.

“How long was I out?” she asked, flinching at how dry her throat was.  Han paused long enough to pass her a glass of water.

“Just a few hours; didn’t miss anything except for the party,” he replied, looking serious for a moment, before another smile crept onto his face.  “Actually, Biggs and Wedge had so many drinks in your honor, you technically didn’t miss it.”

Leia let out a snort at that, not wanting to imagine what kind of condition the two of them where in, part of her mildly surprised she did not see them in the med bay as she turned away from Han, taking in the empty beds.  Even still, a distant look came to her eyes at the thought; a  _ party?  _ How could they celebrate what they did?  What she…

Han’s hands on hers suddenly tightened.

“Hey, stay with me, Princess,” he murmured softly.  “Don’t do this to yourself. The med droid already said you were suffering from extreme fatigue and shouldn’t have been flying in the first place.  Don’t make it worse by dwelling on it; save that for later.”

Extreme fatigue… yes, she supposed being tortured and then watching her home world die before blowing up the people responsible would do that to a person.  She was lucky she even made it back to the base, though vague memories told her that R2 had been doing most of the work. A breath escaped from her as she raised her right hand, still holding the glass of water Han had given her, only to pause, feeling confused.  Of course, nothing had happened to her physically, but… why did she feel like that hand was not supposed to be there…?

“Leia?” Han asked, and she could feel his worry increase as he watched her.  “Uh… look, if you want me to leave—”

“No,” Leia replied quickly, her grip on his hand tightening as she turned back to him.  “No… please, don’t.”

_ Don’t leave,  _ she begged silently,  _ I can’t imagine being alone right now. _

~.oOOo.~

Another message was coming in from Imperial Center.

Vader knew he could not ignore his master’s summons forever, knew he would eventually have to answer the Emperor’s call.  Part of him wanted to continue to ignore him forever, banish the bond that held him to his master and never look back at it.  He did not trust himself enough not to make that desire obvious, nor did he trust the state of his own mind at the moment. He was certain his master could easily tear him apart like this, would know in seconds about Luke, about who he was, and how it had been days since his arrival on Mustafar, and he had yet to wake up.  He could not do that to Luke, not while he was so vulnerable, and so the com continued to chime until it finally fell silent. It left Vader with only the sound of medical equipment beeping softly, monitoring the boy’s condition.

Hesitantly, he reached for his hand, holding it like it was made of glass, only to have his heart leap up into his throat when he felt that hand close around his.

“Luke?” he asked as softly as his vocoder would allow, before he hesitated, feeling his throat clench around the tubing that allowed him to breathe.

“...son?”

The word sounded strange coming from him, as if he had no right to say it.  He  _ knew  _ he did not; no father that would give their child up as soon as they found them did.  No father would keep playing this game, treating their child like a subordinate under the guise of keeping them safe.  Luke had not been safe, had nearly  _ died  _ out there because of him.

He had no right to call Luke his son.

That did not keep his hand from tightening around his again when he did.

There was a bit of conscious struggling, of trying desperately to open his eyes, but Vader could also feel how weak Luke still was.  He was not surprised to feel him lapse back, exhausted just from that effort, but he was surprised to catch an unconscious thought slip through his mind:

_ Don’t leave.  I can’t imagine being alone right now. _

Vader rested his other hand over his, feeling his heart tearing itself apart.  If he could, he would stay by the boy’s side forever. It was where he belonged, just as much as Luke belonged by him.  His son deserved everything he had to give him and more, everything he had not been able to give his mother.

_ Something wonderful has happened, Ani… _

He was wonderful, this child who was very much his mother’s son.  He had insisted he was sensing a girl, he could remember that much now, but Padme’s motherly instincts had proved him wrong.  Luke, light, her light; he swore when the boy told him his name that he would do anything to protect him, even if he did not know how.  So far, he was proving just how bad at it he was, but as he felt Luke unconsciously squeeze his hand again, he knew he had it in him to find a way to do better.

The door to the room opened then, and a soft boop announced DV-2 before the little droid rolled in.  The astromech stopped by his side, reminding him that he was neglecting his own needs for the past two days, and also that he had missed a number of messages from Imperial Center.  Apparently the droid had taken it upon himself to field the Emperor’s summons so no one much more easily disposed of had to do it — a wise choice on the droid’s part, and it made him wonder just what he had picked up while in service on the  _ Devastator.  _ The droid ended his report with a rather tersely booped message of there being orders attached to the last communication he had missed.

“What is it?” Vader asked, already thinking of passing it on to one of the officers.  DV’s emotion sensor flashed red a moment, a clear indication that he was not happy with the Emperor trying to separate Vader from his organic, before booping out that he had been ordered to attend a materials trade negotiation on Cymoon-1, before returning to Coruscant and reporting directly to him.  Of course, this meant that sending one of his men in his place was out of the question; even if the man successfully took care of the trade negotiation, he would not live through reporting the results to his master.

Normally, he would not care.  Normally he would make sure he sent one of the Emperor’s men, removing them from the ranks of officers and soldiers that were loyal to him and him alone.  Even then, he did not have the heart for it at the moment.

“How long before this trade negotiation?” he asked, receiving a booped out week in answer.  It would take him a day’s travel time to arrive at Cymoon-1 from Mustafar; it gave him time to stay by Luke’s side for awhile longer, though he worried about how long it would be before he was able to return, given the irritable mood his master was sure to be in.

At least something as annoying as a trade negotiation would be enough to mentally prepare himself for dealing with the old man.

“Contact the  _ Devastator,  _ Deevee,” he ordered.  “Tell them to prepare a transport for this… meeting.”

DV let out a boop of acknowledgement, starting back for the door as Vader frowned to himself.  His eyes fell to Luke again, a lingering worry gnawing at the back of his mind, and he was not sure if it was paternal instinct, or an actual warning from the Force.

“Deevee,” he began, getting the droid to stop with a questioning boop.  “Inform Lieutenant Tanbris he is to keep watch in my absence, and that he is to contact me at once as soon as Luke wakes.”

DV booped in acknowledgement as Vader felt his hand squeezed again.

~.oOOo.~

Leia was fairly certain that Alliance high command was beyond frustrated with her.  In the week since she had left the medical ward, she had left Yavin in the middle of evacuation procedures, gallivanted around the galaxy in an effort to gather the Alderaanians that had been off world when the Death Star destroyed their home, and then fought for them to have a safe haven on a world out of the Empire’s reach.  Any part of that would have gotten her court martialed at least, doubly so if they ever found out one of the worlds she had stopped at was Naboo, homeworld of the Emperor himself. They did not need to know that little detail; they just needed to know she was back, rendezvoused over Iego as they were all meant to right on time, after coming to a very important decision.

Which was why Mon Mothma, leader of the Rebellion and a dear friend to her family, was looking at her with such an incredulous look on her face.

“Abdicated the—” she began, struggling for words for a moment, before her shoulders finally fell.  “Leia, are you sure that’s wise?”

Of course, she was not sure.  The people of Alderaan meant everything to her, and giving up being their princess was hard, but…

“Alderaan’s people need a leader that will be dedicated to them right now,” she answered, clasping her hands tightly on her lap.  “I cannot give them what they need, as I will always be putting them second to my obligations as a Jedi and as a fighter in this Rebellion.”

A sad look came to Mon’s face at that.

“Leia, you’re not just a fighter, you’re a leader,” she said gently.  “The others will still look to you as a princess.”

“I know,” Leia replied, clasping her hands tighter.  “Red Leader’s choice to not allow me a shot at the Death Star more than proved the general attitude of those around me is that I am something to be protected.  That is why I must divorce myself of the title of Princess of Alderaan, and do everything in my power to prove that I am the daughter of a Jedi; that I  _ am  _ a Jedi.”

Mon Mothma did not look like she believed her, a look she was getting used to when her parentage was brought up.  One day she knew she would need to ask someone why, when there used to be so many Jedi throughout the galaxy, it was so hard to believe her birth father was one.  Now was not the time, however; Mon was letting out a soft breath, reaching over her desk to hand Leia a data chip.

“Perhaps I can give you a chance to take a step in that direction.  Intelligence has received word the Empire is meeting with representatives of a Hutt crime group in order to secure a new source of raw materials,” she explained.  “In the wake of the Death Star’s destruction, they are desperate to resupply what was lost, and quickly. Eliminating the factories on Cymoon-One should cripple them further, giving us the chance to regroup and recruit while the Empire is distracted.”

Leia held the chip carefully in her hand, a small smile coming to her face.  Hutts? She knew  _ just  _ the man to help her with this mission…

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he watched Lord Vader’s shuttle depart, trying not to show how uncomfortable the situation made him feel.  It was his second time on this Force-forsaken planet, and he already hated every moment. The heat was inhumane; even if it was cooler inside the palace than outside, it was still just shy of sweltering.   It made him question if the Dark Lord was even capable of feeling the heat, and he made a mental note to ask what little staff occupied the place if there was a way to turn the cooling up. If not, well… his duty was to Lord Vader and Black Squadron.  Even if young Skywalker was all that was left, he would provide what assistance he could, and try not to melt in the process.

He finally turned away when he could no longer see the shuttle, striding toward the entrance to the palace.  Something caught his attention as he approached, and he paused, frowning down at the lava below. Something fell off the side of the palace, perhaps…?

A breath escaped from him after a moment; it was so hot he was seeing things, that was all.  Tanbris retreated inside quickly, hoping this would be his shortest time on a planet ever.

~.oOOo.~

“Kriffin’ sith spit!”

Danres flinched at her companion’s foul mouth, glancing up at the landing pad above them.  They were strapped down in climbing gear, clinging to the side of the monolith that was the only thing of note on this forsaken rock.

Rebellion Intel thought this would be a good planet to set up a new base, and at first glance, she had to agree.  A planet covered in lava? No way the Empire would think to look for them in such a place. And even if they did, the lava would certainly make any kind of assault difficult.  Sure, there were patches of land, but most of it was soft volcanic ash that had built up around the lava flows, and not very stable for troop deployment.

But then they found this tower, and with no way to access the inside from the ground, the two of them started climbing.  Neither of them could believe what they heard when they got close to the landing pad that jutted out from it. Just about any Rebel knew that if you heard the sound of a respirator, you needed to  _ run,  _ and so the two of them pressed against the side of the tower and prayed.  They had not been caught by Vader, thankfully, though Danres was sure they would be caught by whomever stayed behind when Garr dropped his comlink.  That person did not seem to take notice, and they soon heard the door open and close above them before Garr started cursing.

Danres continued climbing up, much more lithe and agile compared to her big hulking twi’lek companion.  She came up onto the landing pad and kept herself low to the ground, pressing up against the wall. Garr came up a moment later, much less cautious as he shook himself off nearly in plane view.

“Karkin’ Intel needs to get themselves sorted,” he growled in irritation.  “What bantha fodder doesn’t think to check if this planet is where  _ Darth Vader  _ hangs his helmet?!”

“Well, cursing about it isn’t going to help either of us!” she hissed back at him, hesitantly shifting toward the door controls.  There did not seem to be any cameras around, and the door slid open easily at her touch, with no one to be seen on the other side.  She turned back to Garr, worrying her lip.

“What should we do?”

“Do?” he replied, shaking his head.  “Get the hell out, obviously. Tell Intel to shove this world up their—”

“But what about the intel we could get here?” Danres asked.  “Just think: Darth Vader’s personal files! No one will ever get an opportunity like this again.”

Garr hesitated, looking uncertain, not that she could blame him.  It  _ was  _ a huge risk, but Vader was not in, and other than the one person they knew was there, the palace looked deserted.

“C’mon; I have a  _ good  _ feeling about this.”

Garr caught her arm just before she could enter the building.  He frowned, glancing inside, before letting out a muttered curse.

“We call for the others,” he finally said.  “We’re not doing this without backup from the ship.”


	8. Daughter

The Corellian Industrial Cluster was made up of several moons and satellites surrounding Corellia itself, all responsible for various mechanical pursuits, from shipbuilding to everyday items.  When the Empire began, all industry in the Cluster shifted to focus on the manufacture of Imperial weapons and ships, particularly TIE fighters. Cymoon-1 in specific was central to several weapons development efforts, as well as many other Imperial vehicles and equipment, and despite the vastness and self sufficiency of the facility, they too were suffering just as much as the rest of the Empire from the loss of the Death Star.  So much had gone into the building of that project, that others had been put on hold, and now with many of their previous suppliers either pulling support entirely or holding it until contracts could be renegotiated, a fair number of them had yet to start up again.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, which was why Overseer Aggadeen of Cymoon-1’s factory was staring impassively at a scrap heap of a cargo ship coming down on the facility’s landing pad.  He certainly did not want to be dealing with outer rim scum, and he was grateful his contact with them would be brief.

Though he was not certain playing host to them  _ and  _ Darth Vader was very good for his health.

He did not know what to expect when the “delegation” disembarked, but he had been hoping for more than one human in the group.  Said human was no one of note, wearing the same gear and clothing as just about any smuggler out there, with the same arrogant swagger to boot.  He was flanked by two creatures that, while they kept their faces hidden, were clearly weequays, if only because they were bedecked in the same armor that primitive species was known to wear.  Aggadeen fought against a sigh, once again grateful his contact with these…  _ people  _ would be brief.

“On behalf of the Emperor, I welcome you to Cymoon-One.  May these negotiations prove swift and fruitful,” he greeted them once they stopped before him, managing to remain professional despite his distaste.  “I am Overseer Aggadeen; to whom do I have the honor of speaking?”

The human flashed a grin he imagined was supposed to be charming.  It was far from it.

“The emissary of the illustrious Jabba the Great, mightiest of all Hutts, lord of Tatooine and grand warlord of the outer rim,” he began with far too much flourish for a smuggler.  “You can call me Han.”

Aggadeen had to fight against the urge to roll his eyes.  The only thing worse than riffraff was riffraff that believed itself  _ important. _

“This way, if you please, gentlemen,” he replied tersely, turning sharply on his heel to head into the factory.  Lord Vader could  _ not  _ get here soon enough.

~.oOOo.~

Han was hiding it well, but he was a massive bundle of nerves.  He damn near froze up when the security droid at the door started reading off his ID, declaring him a smuggler of little worth (rude!), as well as the bounty on his head (50,000 credits?!  The shipment he dumped wasn’t even worth half that! Kriffin’  _ hell,  _ Jabba!), but no mention of his defection from Imperial service.  Maybe they did not think it worth mentioning, seeing as he had already “disgraced” himself as a pilot and got thrown in with the mud troops before deserting, or maybe they just did not care since he did not join up with the Rebellion.

Well, at least, not right away.

He still could not believe he was doing this, and part of him wanted to blame it on the disguised princess —  _ former  _ princess — behind him.  She had to be using weird Jedi magic on him; that was the only way he would agree to something this stupidly dangerous.  Never mind she insisted there was no way those kind of tricks could work on him; he knew himself, and he knew it totally took more than just a pretty face and a please to get him to do something.  Making him risk his life, butter him up by insisting he was a good person; he was totally on to her little game.

A familiar, prissy voice suddenly came over the com hidden in his ear, nearly drowned out by the loud clunking and banging of the factory around them, and he had to fight against his usual flinch whenever 3PO started talking.

“Princess Leia, I am happy to report that we are in position,” he said, his voice far too cheerful for the situation.

“Good work, Threepio,” Leia murmured in response, though Han just bristled in annoyance.

“You better not be doing anything to my ship, gold dome,” he hissed, flashing a smile when the overseer glanced back at him.  Another voice came over the com in response.

“Relax, Solo,” Wedge said, trying to sound placating.  “He won’t do anything; I’ll keep an eye on him.”

He was less concerned about the droid and more concerned about another Corellian behind the controls of  _ his  _ ship, but he was not about to voice as much without a mask to hide himself behind.  Wedge seemed to know that, because the grin could practically be heard in his voice as he continued:

“I’m a little bothered your ship can blend in with the trash fields so easily, though.  Maybe she needs a little TLC from a gentler hand.”

Han had to fight against the urge to yell, especially in front of all the Imps around them.  Thankfully, Biggs cut in from where he was walking next to Leia.

“Cut it out, Wedge.  Just stick to being ready to fly in and get us out.”

Han rolled his eyes as Wedge acknowledged that, the com falling silent.  If they managed to pull this off and not get themselves killed, it would be a stang miracle — especially with the way Aggadeen kept looking back and giving them the stink eye.  He tossed the overseer a lopsided grin he was not really feeling, gesturing to him.

“Hope you boys are in for some serious negotiation,” he said, hoping to stave off suspicions until they were ready to strike.  “You think Jabba is hard to bargain with? Who do you think taught him all that?”

Han could  _ feel  _ the eyerolls coming from behind him, but he kept his focus on Aggadeen.  The man paused his walk down the hallway, the stormtroopers with him coming to a halt as well, and Han did a mental headcount.  Three troopers behind Biggs and Leia, two on either side of them, and two behind Aggadeen. He really did not like those odds one bit, but at least there was not anyone else in the hallway; that was something, right?

“You seem to have some misconceptions on how this is going to go, Mr. Solo,” the overseer began.  “You will sit down with our negotiator, he will tell you the Empire’s terms, and you will accept them.”

Han glanced back at Biggs and Leia, motioning to the overseer in a, “Can you believe this guy?” kind of way.  He caught Leia’s eyes when he did, noticing they had a sort of far away look to them, the same kind they always had when she was doing her Jedi thing.  Right, Force stuff; maybe the odds actually  _ were  _ in their favor.

“That doesn’t much sound like a negotiation, overseer,” he replied, turning back to face him.

He let out an indignant sniff at that.  “This is the largest weapon’s factory in the galaxy, one that runs nonstop, day and night, all fully automated,” he said tersely.  “We have an entire Empire to keep armed and ready. We haven’t the time nor the inclination to bargain with every two-bit hutt or moff who gets in our way.”

Han could not keep the smirk off his face at that.  This guy was such a typical Imperial bigwig, it was almost nauseating.

“And yet, here we are,” he replied, “with you guys reaching out into the scuzziest parts of space to deal with Hutts.  You all must  _ really  _ be desperate after your little pet Death Star blew up.”

Aggadeen’s face paled, eyes widening slowly.

“How…?”

But he did not get to finish that question, as Leia decided to do her Jedi thing then.  Some kind of  _ push  _ shot out around them, sending the stormtroopers tumbling to the ground, and the overseer struggling to keep his footing.  Both Han and Biggs stepped in then, knocking out the troopers that were still conscious in front of them, while Leia took care of the ones from behind.  The loud clunking of the sparsely populated factory hid the sounds of their fight, allowing them to knock the troopers out without any backup coming in to make things harder.

Aggadeen looked like he was going to have loth cats, stepping away from the chaos as the last trooper fell, only to have his back hit a wall.

“Wh-what kind of negotiators  _ are  _ you?” he demanded.

Han shrugged, that lopsided grin of his coming back to his face as Biggs and Leia pulled off their disguises.

“Oh, just the rebellious kind.”

The overseer’s expression immediately changed at that, his lip curling in disgust.

“Rebel  _ scum!”  _ he snarled, as if that would help him.

“Now, now, Aggie, no need to be like that,” Han replied.  “Just point us to the main reactor control room, and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Aggadeen stiffened.  “I will never tell you filth anything!”

There was a familiar snapping noise behind Han, and then Leia was by his side, extending the blade of her lightsaber toward the overseer’s throat.  He pressed back against the wall, as if he could sink into it and escape from her.

“You were saying?”

Aggadeen’s arm immediately shot up.  “Th-that way.”

“Good choice!” Biggs exclaimed, slugging the overseer into unconsciousness just as Leia closed down her lightsaber.

The three of them took off down the hall after arming themselves with the downed troopers’ blasters, Han in the lead.  Leia had a hand raised to her ear, pressing the com close so she could better hear over the sounds of the factory around them.

“Wedge, we’re on our way to the control room.  What’s your status?”

It was a moment before Wedge’s voice came back over the com.

“I can see Chewie in position from here; garbage tower just overlooking the main landing pad.  No sign of our negotiator yet,” he answered, just as Chewie brayed that he was keeping an eye out.  “We’re sitting here still, but we may need to move; Threepio says he’s picking up some kind of droid chatter; might be sentries.”

“Don’t worry, Wedge; you’re only flying my ship  _ once,”  _ Han cut in, getting Leia to roll her eyes.  “We’ll be done before anything spots you.”

Leia let out a faint sigh as Biggs just shook his head.  Han stopped to look back at them once they got to the control room door, a confident look on his face.

“Hey, don’t be like that; I actually have a  _ good  _ feeling about this!”

~.oOOo.~

Vader could feel an unsettled warning from the Force the moment he emerged from hyperspace, which only increased as he approached the Cymoon factory.  Stepping out onto the landing pad only made it worse, making it difficult to focus on the scene before him. The usual troops were there to greet him, but no overseer.  He could not have still been leading the negotiators to the conference room…

...and he distinctly felt like he was being watched…

“My lord,” one trooper began, “we’ve been trying to raise Overseer Aggadeen to inform him of your arrival, but he hasn’t responded.”

Vader frowned, glancing over his shoulder.  This was a trap, but whose? The Emperor, or…

~.oOOo.~

Han was practically nose deep in the computer in front of him, determined to get past every possible override and safety block so as to set the base’s main reactor to blow and give them enough time to get out of there without a hitch.  It was not easy; this was definitely not his strong suit, and he found himself relying more on the splicer card than he would have cared to admit. They had to make sure this was successful, had to make sure the Imperials could not stop the overload, which was a lot harder than it sounded considering how many layers of security he had to get through to _get_ to the overload command in the first place.  He was so involved, he almost missed Chewie braying in his ear, at least until he heard a name he _really_ did not want to hear.

“Wait, say that again, Chewie?” he asked, only to get the same name again.  “Oh  _ hell.” _ _   
_

“What?” Biggs asked from where he was keeping watch.  “What’d he say?”

“Negotiator’s arrived,” Han replied.  “It’s Darth Vader.”

Biggs looked like he was going to drop his blaster as Wedge swore loudly over the com.  Han hesitated, not sure what to do. Sure, Chewie was in position to take the shot Vader totally deserved, but he had the same kind of weird powers Leia did, right?  She pulled out her glowstick of voodoo and reflected blaster bolts like she knew they were coming; Vader could probably do that too, sniper shot or no.

“Leia, what do you think?” he asked, only to get silence in reply.  He spun around, noticing a nice empty spot where he had seen her last.

Great.

“Chewie, stand down.  Do  _ not  _ take that shot.”

His best friend let out a warble of acknowledgement, and Han was about to turn to Biggs to ask if he had seen where Leia went, when the wookiee suddenly let out a loud shout, his side of the line going dead a moment later.  Han paled, his eyes widening.

“Chewie?!” he shouted, only to get no response.  “Wedge, you got visual on him!?”

It was far too long before the other Corellian responded, “Yeah, I see him; he’s okay, his com must be out.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I dunno; one minute everything was fine, the next the tower was falling,” Wedge answered, sounding baffled.  “It was like it just crumbled for no reason.”

Han frowned, his thoughts going to Leia again.  No, that tower Chewie was in did not just crumble for no reason.  Someone with weird powers  _ made it  _ crumble.

“We’ve been made,” he said, hunching over and attacking the base computer with everything he had.  “I’m gonna finish up here. Wedge, get ready to make the pick up.”

He paused, looking around as if he expected Leia to walk back in the room any minute.  Of course she did not; of course this had to be even more complicated.

“Leia, if you’re hearing this, we’re about to have company of the tall, dark, and  _ loud  _ kind!”

~.oOOo.~

Leia had left the control room once Han had started on the computer, an unsettled feeling crawling up her spine.  Something was off about this place; for a fully automated facility, there was a lot of life around them, and she could tell it was not just stormtroopers.  Fear and hopelessness clung to the very walls, reminding her of the devastated worlds she would go to and provide relief for as a humanitarian aid for both Alderaan and the now disbanded Imperial Senate.

So she was not all that surprised to descend a flight of stairs and find herself face to face with a cage full of slaves.

“‘Fully automated’,” she grumbled under her breath.  “Of all the things to lie about…”

She immediately went to the door of the cage, looking for a way to open it without an alarm going off.  A flair of warning struck her the moment she approached, and she jerked to the side reflexively. An electrowhip sizzled past her ear, striking where her head had been, and she spun around to see a portly man in a slaver’s uniform behind her.

“Get away from that cage, ‘less you wanna join ‘em!” he snapped.

Leia took a deep breath, reaching through the Force to influence the man’s mind.

“You  _ will  _ let these people go free.”

The slaver stared at her for a long moment, before letting out a cruel sounding laugh.

“‘Ya got guts, I’ll give ‘ya that, lady,” he guffawed, drawing a grimace out of Leia.  She  _ would  _ find the only strong minded Imperial on the whole planet.  She shifted, but the slaver’s whip came up again. “‘Ey now, no going for yer blaster!”

Leia allowed herself a smirk at that.  “I wasn’t going to.”

Her lightsaber flung itself off the clip on her belt and into her hand.  The man jerked back, swinging his whip as the blade came to life, easily ignoring the tail of the whip and slicing through his hand.  He howled in pain, falling to his knees by his severed hand, and Leia pulled the key to the cell off his belt with the Force.

“I think you should trade places with these kind people here.”

It was not long before the slaves were freed, and their tormentor locked in their old cell.  He shouted after them, calling Leia a witch as they made their way up the stairs, heading back the way she had come from.  They made it back to the control room just as Han and Biggs came out, looking halfway to panicking. Han’s eyes immediately fell on her, relief washing over him, before it was quickly replaced with anger.

“Why weren’t you answering?” he demanded, before gesturing to the people behind her.  “And who the hell—”

He cut himself off, taking in the tattered clothes the slaves were wearing, and thought better than to finish that question.

“Sorry, Han, there must have been interference below,” Leia began, before glancing back at the others.  “And we have some extra passengers to take with us.”

A few of them smiled at that as Han let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“All right, fine, but we gotta move,” he said.  “Vader’s here, and he’s probably heading our way.”

Vader…

Leia’s mind immediately went to how he had tortured her… but then shifted, remembering him protecting her, remembering him staying his hand in the Death Star trench.  Her grip tightened on her father’s lightsaber; she knew what she had to do. She was not going to get another opportunity like this… even if Vader’s actions so far left her with even more questions than before. 

“I’ll head him off while you escape,” she declared starting down the hall.  Han immediately caught her arm, eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?!” he exclaimed.

“Han…” she began, a warning in her voice, before she raised her lightsaber.  “Jedi, remember?”

“Yeah, a  _ tiny  _ Jedi!” he replied.  “Leia, he’s going to snap you like a twig just by looking at you.”

“Then I’ll stay out of his line of sight,” she insisted, moving to leave again, but Han still held onto her.  Annoyance flashed across her face, before she did the one thing she was sure would shock him into letting go:

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

Sure enough, Han’s hand snapped open in surprise, and Leia shook him off, bolting down the hallway before he could recover.

~.oOOo.~

It was by pure chance Vader had sensed the wookiee watching over the landing pad, though the fact the creature had not taken a shot spoke volumes as to what was going on.  Any Rebel would have jumped at that shot, thinking they would have gotten the opportunity to catch him off guard, not knowing it would have been a useless endeavor; the Force would have given him ample warning for an attack long before the shot came close to hitting him.  The wookiee must have known that, which meant he had a warning not to shoot.

A warning from someone that knew the Force.

The princess was excellent at concealing her bright presence in the Force, unless she wanted to be found.  It was a long stretch before he was able to sense where she was, heading purposefully in his direction. So, she intended to stall him, likely to allow whatever friends accompanied her to escape.  Just as well; allowed her to or not, she was still the terrorist that had destroyed a major Imperial facility. Killing her or bringing her before the Emperor would certainly keep his master satisfied and his attention elsewhere long enough for Luke to recover, and give him time to plan his next move.

It was a moment before he saw her, coming around a corner ahead.  She had discarded her royal trappings, instead garbed in clothes no different from any other lowly Rebel.  She was not even wearing anything designating a rank, and it made him question if the rumors coming out of Espirion of her renouncing her title were true.

For now, none of that mattered; he did not need the Force to sense her intent at the moment.  It was clear from the determination on her face and the lightsaber hilt in her hand. He took up his own as he strode toward her, igniting the blade before stopping a respectful distance away.

“Throwing your life away so soon after taking it back, princess?” he asked, a hint of darkened humor in his voice.

“Just Leia, if you please, Vader,” she replied igniting her own blade, bathing her end of the hall in blue.  He narrowed his eyes at the sight of it, an annoying sensation clawing at the back of his mind.

He ignored it, pushing it away as he closed the distance between them, bringing his lightsaber down on her.  She met the attack easily, slipping into a defensive posture Vader knew  _ very  _ well.  His anger churned, seething around him like it was a living thing as he continued to strike at her, each blow stronger than the last.  Her answering strength surprised him, replying to each attack with a parry of her own. Vader could almost see  _ him  _ instead of the young woman, standing above him, mocking him with each movement, and it fueled his anger, turning it into an uncontrolled fountain of rage.

“You’ve spent your time training in vain, princess,” he sneered at her.  “Kenobi’s ill guidance shows in your every move.”

A flash of anger came from the princess as she grit her teeth, suddenly switching to an offensive stance.  She lashed out at him viciously, very nearly nicking his armor in the process with her blade. Still, her small stature worked against her, and he was able to easily catch her weapon against his on her next attack, shoving her aside and slamming her against the wall.  A sharp gasp escaped from her, the air rushing out of her lungs and making her lose focus. It was more than enough to allow Vader to rip the lightsaber from her grip with the Force, calling it to his hand.

“You have talent, princess, but poor training,” he intoned, raising both blades with the intent to finish her off.  “Such a performance is an insult to the old—”

He cut himself off, the clawing sensation coming back to him with a vengeance.  A snarl stuck in his throat, threatening to burst out of him as he glanced at the other blade…

...and suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

The blade in his hand sang in the Force, as the crystal within recognized him, called to him like an old friend.  As well it should, as he would have never forgotten it, nor the outer shaft that contained it. He had gone through many lightsabers in his youth, never quite taking the importance of the weapon as seriously as he should have.  That changed with his last one, the one built as the Clone Wars began, just after his marriage. That had been built with all the love and care he gave to those close to him, knowing he had something so very important and very personal to protect now, and he had held onto it until the day his body had been all but destroyed.

And now he held it again.

_ “Where  _ did you get this?” he demanded, his voice coming out like a deadly hiss.  He knew, of course; if the princess trained with Kenobi, then she had to have gotten it from him, never mind it was not his to just give off to some random  _ child.   _ Said child pushed herself up along the wall until she was standing up straight again, a hand on her chest as she fought for breath back.  She met his dark tone with a glare, eyes narrowed as she debated how to respond.

“...it belonged to my father.”

_ “Liar!”  _ he snapped, the walls trembling with his rage.  “Bail Organa was no Jedi!”

“Not him!” Leia snapped back.  “My birth father!”

Everything around him felt like it stopped then — his own breath, his heart, sound, the air, time itself; nothing seemed to want to move.  The Princess of Alderaan was adopted; he did recall some vague gossip along those lines, but had dismissed it like he did everything else. Adopted, but also the daughter of…

He wanted to deny it, say that there was no way it could be true, but the Force would not allow that thought to linger, practically shouting at him that for once, she was not lying.  He found himself taking a step back, grateful for the mask that separated him from the rest of the galaxy, so the princess could not see the fear and horror and  _ shame  _ on his face.

No, not “the princess.”   _ His daughter. _

_ Something wonderful has happened, Ani… _

He should have  _ seen  _ it; she looked so much like Padmé, just as Luke looked so much like him, but there were little things that showed of the other parent as well.  On Luke, it was her nose and kind smile, along with his compassionate heart. On Leia, the entire shape of her face was all him, not to mention her fierce devotion and fiery temper.

“Did you kill him?”

Her voice brought his focus back to her, and he inclined his head, confused.  Kill… him? What…? His lack of response stoked the flames of that temper of hers, and she took a bold step toward him.

“Answer me, Vader!  Did you kill Anakin Skywalker?!”

~.oOOo.~

That damn princess fought dirty.

Han’s cheek still felt like it was stinging from where her lips met it, and he was continuously telling himself that no, he was  _ not  _ blushing, in some vain hope that maybe it would be true.  If the occasional snort from just behind him was any clue, though, it definitely was not succeeding, and damn Biggs was enjoying every moment.

“Laugh it up, bristle mouth,” he finally grumbled, coming to a stop as they came out into a massive hanger.  It did not seem the troops in the factory realized they were coming this way, as the place was deserted. That did not mean it was  _ empty;  _ there were rows upon rows of Imperial walkers — both the hulking troop transports and the chicken-legged scout walkers.  He stared up at one, an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, before he shook it off; they were not there for those things.

“Wedge!” he snapped into the com.  “We’ve got a clear escape; where the hell are you?”

The sound of blaster fire came over the com in response.

“Hey, Han?  Did you know there were natives in the trash fields?” he asked, sarcasm loaded in his voice.  “Did you know they really like garbage? I would have liked to know that.”

Han rolled his eyes skyward.  They were doing so well; how did everything fall apart this badly?  His gaze fell to the walkers again, an — admittedly terrible — idea worming its way into his head.

“Wedge, we’re on our way to you; hang in there,” he grumbled, before turning to the slaves he had been leading.  “All right, everyone in a walker.  _ Move!” _

~.oOOo.~

The moment Vader had fallen silent, a feeling of dread started to crawl up Leia’s spine.  It was bad enough he had been able to put her off guard with little effort — embarrassing, frankly — but how easily he had been able to call her father’s lightsaber to his hand had just been an extra insult.  He had recognized it, however; he  _ had  _ to know it was Anakin Skywalker’s weapon, just from the way he looked at it.  Even with the mask in the way, she could tell he was staring at it like an old friend he has not seen in ages.

...and the way the lightsaber seemed to fit comfortably in his large hand…

...the way the kyber crystal within seemed to respond…

It hurt to breathe and fear was churning uncomfortably in her stomach, and she found herself blurting out:

“Did you kill him?”

It was a lie she never really believed, but the depth of that lie?  She did not know, could not have known, but at the moment it was drilling into the back of her skull, allowing a quiet voice to whisper that she had allowed herself to be lied to for seven years.  She let it happen, let herself be trained for the soul purpose of killing…

Vader barely acknowledged her, only tilting his head.  The lack of response fueled her anger, and she knew she had to keep it back, had to reign herself in, but there was no way she could do that at the moment. Not now, in the face of such an important truth. 

“Answer me, Vader! Did you kill Anakin Skywalker?!”

She wanted to beg him to say yes, to tell her he murdered her father in cold blood like Master Kenobi said…

“No.”

Of course he did not; the Force felt like it was humming with truth, both spoken and unspoken, and she  _ knew.   _ Leia knew it was all true, and she pressed a hand to her mouth as she took a step away from him.  It was hard to place which was more horrifying: the fact that she had trained for years, “knowing” that it was her fate to confront the man that had taken her father away from her before she could know him, or that this man, this person that was more machine, was… was her…

_ Stars;  _ she could not even bring herself to  _ think  _ it!

A warning from the Force trilled between them, and both Leia and Vader looked up as dust on the ceiling above them shook loose.  Their gazes drifted back to each other, an awkward feeling of anticipation settling in the air, before Vader suddenly threw her father’s lightsaber back to her.  She caught it just in time to be flung backwards, down the hall and far away from the collapsing ceiling. Leia landed roughly on the ground, hissing as she slid to a stop, before turning wide, scared eyes to the collapse.

“Father!”

She recoiled as soon as the word escaped her mouth, horrified at how easily it came out.  He was alive, though; she could still sense his terrifying presence, though it was muted, as it was likely he had been knocked out.  For a brief moment, she debated finding him; finding him and… she did not know what. It was that uncertainty that made her turn away, making her way around the rubble instead.

The sooner she got away from this place, the better.

~.oOOo.~

Wedge swore under his breath as he squeezed another shot off, pleased to see another of his attackers bite the dust.  Of course, that pleasure turned sour almost immediately, as it seemed like four more replaced him. This was ridiculous; anyone with sense would have tried to find better trash by now.  Just how desperate were the natives in this garbage heap?!

“Threepio, tell me you got this hunk of junk working!” he shouted over his shoulder.  He could just barely hear the droid let out an alarmed noise in response.

“Oh…! I’m trying, Master Antilles, but it seems the scavengers pulled out some essential component, and the ship is refusing to tell me what so it can be bypassed!”

Wedge nearly groaned, taking his frustration out by picking off another native.  Could this get any worse?

As if in answer, a loud, annoying trill went off above him, and Wedge looked up just in time to see an Imperial Sentry droid hovering above him.  He angled himself slightly to blast the ugly black droid out of the sky, but he knew the damage was already done. There would be Imps crawling all over this trash heap in a matter of minutes.

“Great, because there aren’t enough in this party already,” he muttered to himself, before shouting back, “Threepio, hurry it up!  We’re—”

A loud wookiee yell cut him off, and his eyes widened as he saw Chewbacca behind the natives.  He lifted up two of them, yelling obscenities in their faces, before clunking the two of them together and flinging them into the others.   _ That  _ certainly caught their attention, and the natives started to run for it, the wookiee wading through them, waving his arms threateningly as they took off.

“Man, am I glad to see you,” Wedge said as Chewie approached, earning himself what he thought was a greeting — he knew a little bit of Shyriiwook, but he was not nearly as knowledgeable as Han.  “C’mon, the others are trying to bail, the  _ Falcon _ ’s being temperamental, and we’re gonna have bucketheads coming down on us any second.”

~.oOOo.~

Leia did not know who it was driving the Imperial walker, but they were doing a fine job of making a mess.  She had opted to chase after it once she realized it was responsible for the collapsed hallway, only to come out into a warzone.  Freed slaves were fighting stormtroopers with whatever they could get their hands on, protecting the walker with everything they had, and many of them dying for it.  She ached every time she saw one of them fall, adding to the pain that was already clawing away at her heart. She shook it off for now, igniting her lightsaber and lashing out at the troopers, doing everything she could to help.

Something was wrong, though, and it took her a moment to realize that they were short a few explosions.

“Han!” she shouted into the com.  “Why hasn’t the factory exploded yet?!”

She heard a grunt on the other end, followed by a loud curse.

“Dammit, I did everything I could, but they must’ve still disabled the reactor core meltdown,” he replied, regret hanging in his voice.  “I’m sorry, Leia.”

A cold lump of fear settled in the pit of Leia’s stomach; that was it?  They did all this for… what? A few freed slaves and a truth she could not tell anyone?  No, there had to be something she could do, and her eyes frantically scanned the field before her, spotting a row of swoop bikes resting unattended.  She let out a breath, remembering what Bail said about her taking after her father; how Anakin had always been a brilliant pilot that could fly anything.

At least now she knew that for a fact; and if he could fly anything, then…

Leia darted forward, cutting down a trooper in her way, before hopping onto one of the bikes.  She was airborne in the next moment, shooting through the battlefield and back into the facility, a white knuckle grip on the controls.  Flying through the halls at a breakneck pace was not much different from flying in the Death Star trench, and it was not long before she was coming up on the control room and the reactor core.  So much happened in a single moment; she saw Aggadeen, frantically working at the computer with several officers. They all stared at her, wide eyed as she dove in, squeezing the blaster control for the swoop.  The blasts shot out from the gun on the bottom of the bike, hitting the reactor… and then she was sailing past them, out the other entrance to the room as Aggadeen and his officers were incinerated. White hot fire followed at her back as she sped through the halls of the exploding factory, knowing that she could make it, that she was not going to die here today.

Leia was, after all, the daughter of the most powerful Force user in the galaxy. 

~.oOOo.~

It was the lack of oxygen getting into his lungs properly that forced Vader back into consciousness.  He struggled, pure rage and spite fueling him to move leadened limbs, forcing the main part of his mask back into place.  The respirator's reboot cycle started immediately, and proper air was coming to him again, if with a bit of leakage. It took him a moment to realize the mask had been badly damaged, leaving one eye bare to the world around him.  His helmet was also missing, leaving the back of his fire damaged head exposed to the open air…

“Mother of moons—!”

The voice behind him had him snapping his head around, his bare eye glaring out from the damaged mask at the trooper behind him.  The man jerked back, fear rolling off of him in waves.

“F-forgive me, my lord, I—”

He did not let the man finish, using the Force to snap his neck so hard he spun the trooper’s head completely around to face behind him.  The corpse fell to the ground as Vader located his helm, calling it to him and securing it back in place. It was a moment before he could trust his artificial limbs to hold him up, and he carefully picked through the debris to come out into the open air.

The factory was in ruins, small explosions still rocking the area.  Troopers were doing all they could to salvage what they could get their hands on, but it was very clear the facility was a total loss.  An AT-AT stood abandoned in the distance, and the sound of a ship roared over head, drawing his attention skyward.

It had been years since he had one eye bare, without any cybernetics to assist him, and even then he had been surrounded in a glaring red glow.  There was none of that here, giving him a clear view of the Corellian freighter as it sped away, Leia standing on the loading ramp, clutching to one of the supports.  Despite being clearly shaken, she held on tight, meeting his gaze and he  _ saw  _ her; saw her deep brown eyes and long hair pulled back in a messy braid, saw the expression of fierce determination that was so much like him melt into sadness and despair.

It was not much of a stretch to figure out  _ why. _

He held her gaze for as long as he could, still watching as she retreated into the ship and the ramp closed.  His heart ached, remembering every time he had seen her, from her first moment in the senate, to her torture —  _ torture!  _ His own daughter! — on the Death Star.  He had been so  _ blind… _

The daughter he sensed, the son she had known; twin lights in a galaxy overwhelmed in darkness.  He had to protect them; never again would he allow their lights to dim because of his mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super thanks to everyone that's read this so far! Over 5k hits; I'm still in awe.
> 
> Just want to drop a quick note that updates may be a bit slow in the future. Work has picked up, and I'm looking at overtime hell for the next month at least. I will try to make the chapters longer to make up for it, but I can't guarantee my current pace will continue.


	9. Son

Tanbris was a military man, something he had realized at a young age. He could never really sit still, always needed to be moving, in the moment. It was why when he had suffered a severe spinal injury when he flew for Black Squadron, he went into officer’s training instead of taking the early retirement he very well could have. He saw a lot of that same drive in Skywalker: always needing to move, always needing to be doing something.  Though where he had his focus on the present, the boy seemed to be thinking ten steps ahead, planning out the future before it even had a chance to happen. Even if their way of thinking was different, he could relate to the boy, and that was the only reason he had not gone completely stir crazy watching over him, though he was fairly close to it.

He just hoped the young man would get to fly again; something about the name Skywalker… someone with a name like that did not deserve to be permanently grounded.

At least he seemed to be coming out of it, if slowly. Every once in awhile when he came in to check on him, he could see a finger or two twitch, or his eyelids struggling to open before he fell still again. There was hope he would recover, which was a relief, if only because of how _scared_ Lord Vader had been when he recovered the boy. He had seen his lord as many things over the years, though mostly as a man to be both feared and respected, and looked up to him as a towering pillar of strength that held up the Empire. Seeing him so… human, especially over a young man as likable as Skywalker, just made him respect him that much more.

Tanbris peered over Luke, checking the medical equipment he was hooked up to as part of his usual rounds when it came to looking out for him. It was the same as always, and he nodded to himself, about to leave, when the door to the room opened on its own. Skywalker’s droid entered, booping that there was a message incoming from the _Devastator._ Tanbris nodded, hurrying out to the com station down the hall to take it, the droid following close behind. The admiral had been calling down every now and then, seemingly just as anxious about Skywalker’s condition as Lord Vader was, though he suspected for different reasons. He harbored no illusions they would not suffer if the boy never recovered, even if it was through no fault of their own.

Tanbris saluted as soon as Montferrat’s image appeared on the com screen, though the man waved it off quickly.

“Is there any change, Lieutenant?”

“Same as yesterday, sir,” Tanbris reported. “I still believe he will recover. We just need to be patient—”

He cut himself off, frowning as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His head jerked in the direction he swore he saw it come from… but as always, there was nothing there.

“Lieutenant?”

Tanbris let out a breath, reaching up to adjust his collar. It was not the first time he thought he had seen something moving…

“Apologies, Admiral,” he replied, turning back to the screen. “If I may be frank, Lord Vader’s palace is… unnerving.”

It was probably the understatement of the century, enough to get a humored smirk out of the otherwise stern admiral.

“Rest easy, Lieutenant,” he replied. “As long as you keep clear of the library, you’ll be fine. It’s not as if anyone would be insane enough to desecrate Lord Vader’s personal sanctuary.”

~.oOOo.~

Danres felt her heart hammering away in her chest as she pressed herself against the wall, straining to listen to the conversation happening down the adjoining hallway. That blonde man — a lieutenant apparently? — was a lot sharper than most Imperial officers. He reminded her of some pilots, particularly the Reds, with how they seemed to know everything going on around them at once.

Still, what little of the conversation she caught was telling. So far their group of six had encountered nothing but droids that hardly seemed to be interested in them. If any of them had been seen, the droids did not have the programming to care, and only plodded about their business as usual; but other than them and the lieutenant, there was another person here? An injured individual, if she was understanding right. Curiosity gnawed at her, wondering who could be so important as to receive medical treatment in Darth Vader’s own palace.

She glanced back at her companion, another human that just introduced himself as Zac. She did not know him that well, but Garr had apparently run missions with him in the past, and was more than happy to vouch for him. She supposed that was fine, but she still found the man unsettling, especially with the cybernetics that concealed his eyes, making it hard to guess at what he could possibly be thinking.

She nodded toward the hallway, wordlessly questioning if they should check it out. Zac tilted his head thoughtfully a moment, before nodding, and they waited, carefully listening as the lieutenant finished his call and exchanged a few words with the droid that accompanied him. The droid let out a low booping noise, and Danres hazard a peek down the hall to see the two of them heading in the opposite direction, leaving the medical wing behind.

She waited until they disappeared around the corner, before darting forward, keeping herself low to the ground. Zac was following suit behind her, standing to press himself against the wall once he got to the door lock. He reached over with his splicer to override the lock, only to get a negative noise out of the handheld machine.

“No good; heavy encrypt,” he reported. “Need a data cylinder or an emergency protocol to get it open.”

“How can we force the emergency protocols to kick in?” Danres whispered back.

“Power out would be the easiest way,” Zac replied.

A chirp came from the comlinks in their ears, letting them know one of the others was about to chime in.

“We’ve found a few locks like that too,” Garr’s voice came over. “Betting that’s where the good stuff is.”

“Can we force a power outage?” Danres asked, only to get a snort on the other end from Romal, their Rodian tech expert.

「It will take a bit, but yes,」 he said in his native tongue. 「That Star Destroyer up in orbit will know we’re here quickly though.」

“Then we will have to be quick,” Zac replied.

Romal grumbled on the other end, though Danres’ attention was on Garr and the faint, worried noise he was letting out.

“Anyone hear from Bobeck and Mycal?” he asked.

Bobeck, their Sullustan pilot, had accompanied them in, rather than stay with the ship, too worried that they were all in over their heads. Mycal was his copilot — a young Corellian, far too young to be fighting a war, but she refused to be separated from her pilot. The two of them were never too far apart from each other and both were chatty, able to talk your ear off if you gave them the time to get going.  Hearing both of them go quiet was unnerving.

“Didn’t Mycal say something about finding a library?” Danres asked. “They might be caught up with whatever is in there.”

「They’ll know we’re doing something when the place goes dark,」 Romal replied, annoyance in his voice. 「If we do this, we do this now, and quickly, then get out.」

Danres nodded to herself, glancing up at Zac and his unreadable expression a moment. Hopefully this was not a mistake.

“We’ll standby here,” she said. “May the Force be with you.”

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris gave up on keeping the mild smile off his face as the ship came into Vader’s private docking bay, settling gently between a classic Nubian transport and an old pre-Clone Wars star fighter he did not recognize. It was the same ship he had flown off the Death Star: it had the appearance of a _Marauder_ -class corvette, but was smaller than the old, pre-Clone Wars transport ships, making it just big enough for a crew of five or six, but could easily be piloted by a single person. He very well would have mistaken it for a pirating vessel if not for where he found it, and instead assumed it was someone’s mid-life crisis ship… which it probably was, if he was right about who he accidentally stole it from.

Regardless, with all the other ships in the docking bay that ranged from new to ancient, it looked like it fit right in.

He was surprised when Admiral Montferrat himself came walking down the ship’s ramp, and fumbled slightly to come to attention. The admiral waved him off, though, an amused expression on his face that even made the scarring around his dead eye seem like it was smiling.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” he assured him. “This is more a personal call; I wanted to see how Luke was doing myself.”

Tanbris could not help but stare at that. “Luke”? Not Skywalker or FL-1138? Instead of offering an immediate explanation, the admiral walked past him, his gaze lingering on some of the ships as he headed for the door.

“Did he never tell you how he came into the Empire’s service, Lieutenant?” he finally asked as Tanbris hurried to catch up to him.

“No sir,” he answered. “He spent most of his time outside the cockpit with the young man he came in with, and rarely spoke to the others.”

Montferrat nodded absently; his hand was outstretched, reaching for the door controls as he was about to reply.  Just before he could press the button, all power in the hanger suddenly snapped off, plunging the two of them into near darkness.  The admiral jerked away from the door, staring around them in disbelief as Tanbris pulled his comlink from his pocket.

“Deevee, do you copy?” he asked, getting a soft boop in return.  “The power is out in the docking bay; can you see why?”

The response he got was hardly encouraging; apparently the power was out in the whole _palace,_ with only the backup emergency power functioning properly _._ He glanced at the admiral, a concerned look on his face; so much for no one daring to defile Vader’s personal sanctuary.  It could not be Rebels… could it? They would not be _that_ emboldened after the Death Star’s destruction, would they?

Montferrat seemed to think so, if the grim look on his face was any indication.  He stepped closer so he could be picked up by the comlink.

“Deevee, override the security protection on the docking bay doors, then go to your master.  We will join you shortly.”

DV-2 confirmed the order with a soft boop, and barely a half minute later, the door before them slid open.  Tanbris could not help but be impressed; such an efficient little droid for one that was not routinely memory wiped.

Montferrat pulled his blaster before heading in, Tanbris following suit a moment later.  If he thought the halls of the palace were unsettling in normal lighting, then they were outright creepy with only the occasional red emergency light to illuminate their way.  The lieutenant took a deep breath as he followed after the admiral, trying to pretend that everything was fine and it was just a power outage and it was just their own shadows crawling along the walls.

Stars, he never wanted to come back here after this.

They just turned the corner, when an animalistic _howl_ flooded down the hall, sounding vaguely human, but far too deranged to be a _sane_ human.  The two of them paused, exchanging worried looks; just what the hell was going _on_ here?

~.oOOo.~

Garr had only been half paying attention to what Romal was doing. Hacking tech was not his thing — _most_ tech was not his thing unless he needed to shoot it — so he usually just stood guard and let the Rodian do what he needed to when they worked together.  The silence was only interrupted by his occasional hemming and hawing until that creepy as hell _howl_ echoed down the halls.  That actually got Romal to look up from the computer he was sliced into, a concerned look on his bumpy face.

「What the hell was that?」

“No idea,” Garr replied, shifting his blaster in his hands.  Silence blanketed the area, and for a brief moment, he started thinking that maybe they were just hearing things.  The crazed, deranged laughter that came next proved him wrong quickly, and Garr’s gun shot up, pointed down the hall.

“I’m checking it out,” he said.  “Stay here.”

「Be careful.」

He slipped out into the hall, treading as quietly as he possibly could.  The droids that peppered the rest of the palace were strangely absent from this area, and they had yet to see any other sentients other than that lieutenant, though he was sure that would change once he got word up to that Star Destroyer — if he did.  Maybe he would think it was just a simple power malfunction, giving them some extra time. Either way, they still did not have time to wasting on creepy noises in the halls.

He felt, rather than heard, something run past as he made his way to an intersection, causing him to stop dead in his tracks.  Garr frowned, pressing himself against a wall as he proceeded forward, trying to check down the other way…

He had no idea whatever it was had come up behind him until he was clubbed soundly on the back of the head, his world plunging into darkness.

~.oOOo.~

Those giggles were coming again, and it was keeping Romal from concentrating on his work.  Garr should have been back by now, and he was really wishing the big guy had never left in the first place.  It would probably be best if he closed up what he was doing and found a place to hide at this point, right? That way if whatever was responsible for that noise came around before the twi’lek came back, he would not be found.  That was a reasonable assumption, right?

Romal nodded to himself, before injected a custom code into the file system that would make it difficult for the Imps to get the power back online.  He was just about to pull his splicing equipment from the terminal, when he heard a rustling sound behind him, causing him to jump, a terrified noise coming from his snout.  Spinning around revealed nothing behind him, leaving him feeling even more spooked than he was already.

「Garr…?」 he whimpered.  「Please tell me that’s just you…?」

An inhuman giggle was the response he got, much louder than it should have been.  His eyes widened as he slowly turned, terror creeping up along his spine. Of course, he recognized Bobek — the pilot was just like any other Sullustan, but it was very clear something was extremely wrong.  The man’s dark eyes were milky white, almost like he was blind, but he was clearly looking right at him. His body was contorted, twisting in such an unnatural way that it did not seem possible for him to function.  Drool was dribbling from his mouth, pooling on the console beneath him as he let out another one of those stars-awful giggles.

Romal was not alive long enough after seeing Bobek to know what happened; his last conscious thought was morbid amazement that so much blood could come from his snout when it was ripped off.

~.oOOo.~

Once the power went out, the emergency systems kicked in, forcing the door to the medical wing open.  Immediately, the first thing Danres and Zac saw was a massive bacta tank, clearly custom made to fit Vader’s impressive size.  Zac went to it without hesitation, plugging in his splicer and getting to work downloading what data he could get from it, while Danres headed further in.  She was not too surprised to see so many prosthetics — arms and legs all Vader sized, making her wonder just how much of him was artificial. The smaller half an arm she found resting on a work table was a bit of an oddity; it looked almost human-like compared to the other, larger ones, with a layer of synth skin that was in the process of being placed.

She found her attention drawn to a small door tucked away in a corner, almost like something was calling her.  Looking back, she made sure Zac was still preoccupied with the tank, before heading toward the door, pressing the release and heading inside.  It was dark within despite the back-up light, but unlike the rest of the palace, there was a strange feeling of safety and security in the room, almost like the warm feeling of being in one’s own home.

Danres spotted the young man on the medical bed quickly enough, and she squinted through the darkness to get a good look at him.  He was young, _so_ young, with military buzzed hair started to grow out around a soft, peaceful face.  One arm was draped over his stomach, but the other was missing just below the elbow, and she quickly realized the small prosthetic she saw must have been for him.

“Father…” he suddenly murmured, shifting restlessly, before falling still, and the sight made Danres’ heart break a little.  She should probably kill him — he had to be someone important if he was being cared for like this. Instead, she found herself reaching out, placing a comforting hand over his, the action causing the stress lines that had started to pepper his expression to smooth out.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly, patting his hand has his head lolled to the side before falling still once again.  Danres gently grasped the blanket then, pulling it around him securely. She was just about to turn to leave, when a loud blatting noise made her jump.  A black astromech droid was blocking the door, arc welder out and pointed at her threateningly. Her hands shot up quickly, showing they were empty.

“It’s okay, it’s okay; I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she assured the droid, only to get called a Rebel brat in retaliation.  The little guy approached, herding her away from the bed and putting itself between her and the young man protectively, continuing to blat about leaving him alone.

“I promise, I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she repeated.  “Is he your master?”

That got a harsh, corrective blat that no, he was not just the droid’s master, he was his maker.  She glanced at the boy again, wondering if his talent to build was what made him so important. Vader clearly needed the maintenance, after all.

“Who is he?” she asked, only to get blatted at again.  “Just a pilot? You’re kidding; Vader wouldn’t give a pilot this much attention.”

The droid’s harsh tone suddenly turned evasive, insisting that no, really, he was just a pilot; no one important at all.  Danres frowned at that, giving the droid a suspicious look as he beeped himself into silence, rotating his head to look back at his master.

“So what’s your name then?” she finally asked, getting a low boop in response.  DV-2? Now she _knew_ the kid had to either be a fanatical Imperial or someone special.  What other kind of person named a droid after Darth Vader?

“All right, Deevee; I’m just going to leave and lock the door behind me,” she assured him.  “I promise I’m not going to tell the others about him.”

DV booped faintly, not sounding very convinced, but he watched her as she turned toward the door, about to make due on her promise.  Something big blocked her way just as she reached it, and she jumped back, startled, as the droid let out a rude sounding blat.

“Garr…?” she managed to get out, but even as she said it, she knew something was wrong.  The big twi’lek’s eyes were milky white, his body swelled to make him seem even larger than he normally was.  An inhumane, unkind grin engulfed his whole face, showing off his razor sharp teeth.

Danres barely got out a scream as a giant hand lunged out for her neck.

~.oOOo.~

Montferrat was starting to feel unsettled at this point, the giggling that surrounded them rising to an insanity pitch.  His grip was tight on his blaster, his good eye looking everywhere at once, and he was very aware of Tanbris behind him, covering his back and his blind spot and trying to pretend he was not scared.  He was not going to fault him for it at this point.

Something in the darkness suddenly _moved,_ rushing past them with a speed Montferrat could not track.  He felt it brush against him, and he registered something wet on his uniform before the pain hit.  His hand went to his arm, coming away with the familiar stickiness of blood.

“There!” Tanbris shouted, his blaster lighting up the hallway.  Without pausing to think about it, Montferrat’s own blaster came up, shooting at the shape that was illuminated until he heard a thump, and the giggling blissfully stopped.  He approached after a moment of silence, nudging at the corpse with his foot, making out the shape of a Sullustan in the dim light. It looked odd, though, almost like it had been compacted in on itself before it died.

“What in…” Tanbris began, unable to finish that sentence as he looked at the corpse in horror.  Montferrat glanced at him, before letting out a sigh.

“...Lord Vader has warned me against a number of questionable items in his care,” he explained.  “My guess? The Rebels found those items, and bit off more than they could chew.”

Tanbris was about to reply, when a woman’s scream echoed through the hall, followed by an astromech wailing.  He turned a wide-eyed look of horror to the admiral instead, before the both of them broke out into a run for the medical wing.

~.oOOo.~

Danres collapsed to the ground as she was let go, almost landing on top of DV.  The little droid scooted past her protectively, his arc welder crackling as he shot at Garr again — or rather, what was physically Garr, as she was pretty sure at this point that mentally he was _gone_ — forcing the twi’lek back and out of the room.  She paused a moment, glancing up at the bed to make sure the boy was okay, before scrambling up to her feet.

She pulled her blaster then, firing warning shots at Garr and forcing him to back off even more.  If there even was a part of him was still conscious of himself, it seemed to determine that it was not worth sticking around here, and he turned and fled from the med bay.  Danres’ hand snapped out, slapping the door control closed, before she ran after the deranged twi’lek, DV rolling along beside her.

A shout rang down the hall, and Danres turned the corner to see Garr had a man in an admiral’s uniform by his face, meaty fingers squeezing into his skull.  Her blaster came up again, firing off another warning shot at his feet.

“Enough, Garr, let him go!”

Garr let out a loud, animalistic snarl, flinging himself around and throwing the admiral at her.  The two of them toppled to the ground, and the admiral groaned in pain, favoring his arm. The lieutenant opened up behind Garr, shooting him several times, but it almost seemed like his skin absorbed the energy, making him glow a sickly green.  His arm swung back, slapping the lieutenant soundly across the face and knocking him clear off his feet. He landed in a heap on the ground as Garr turned back to her, leering at her as she shakily raised her blaster, not sure what to do.

The twi’lek took a step toward her, a hand raised, fingers crackling with the energy he absorbed, before he suddenly stopped.  For a moment, nothing happened, with the monster that was Garr just staring at something over her head. He jerked suddenly, stepping back before letting out a choking noise, a hand going for his neck.

The admiral moved as Garr continued to gag, pushing himself away from Danres, his eyes focused on something behind her.  She turned, looking up, and for a moment she almost swore Darth Vader was looming behind her. An arm was outstretched, fingers curled like he was actually holding Garr by the throat, but the rest of the figure was hidden away in the darkness.  The twi’lek screamed, a horrible snapping noise coming from him as his throat was squeezed by an unseen force, bending his head all the way back until there was one last, sickening _crunch,_ and his body fell to the floor.

Danres could not bring herself to look back at the body, her eyes focused on the shadowy figure behind her.  It was a moment before the hand lowered, and the figure stepped into the dim light, revealing the boy from before.  His face was ashen, drawn out and worn, his eyes tired as he looked from her to the two Imperials. Danres followed his gaze, seeing the admiral and the lieutenant staring at him, and knowing the same thought had to be occurring to them.

This kid _had to_ be closely related to Vader.

“Admiral…?” he finally said, his voice wavering.  He took a step forward, legs wobbling, and the admiral shot up, grabbing him before he could fall.

“Easy, Luke, easy,” he said, keeping a firm grip on him as DV chirped happily.

Silence fell immediately after, and Danres realized all eyes were on her.  The lieutenant brought his blaster up, though the droid letting out a chirp had him hesitating to fire, even though he kept it trained on her.

“She’s fine,” the boy — Luke — echoed his droid.  “She protected me.”

Danres looked between the men, before setting her blaster on the ground, kicking it away and raising her hands in surrender.  She did not know what was in store for her now, but it had to be better than what almost happened.

~.oOOo.~

Zac had left the med bay once he had acquired the data he had been sent to retrieve, ignoring the sounds of screaming as he made his way back to the landing pad.  He had spent a year in deep cover in the Rebellion, gathering intel and planting fake leads, though he never imagined having to do this. Planting the idea of Mustafar being a good location for a base was not hard — it was if it was planned well and the resources were available.  Doing so because his master needed information on Lord Vader? That was a little harder to plan out, mostly because not even his master really knew anything, outside of the Dark Lord behaving oddly and there had to be a reason for it.

He had not found anything medically wrong with the Lord.  With someone _else,_ however…

The name alone had sounded significant, even though running it through the databanks he had available proved little.  Considering the care that was being used for this individual, he considered it important anyway, important enough that once he got to the ship and breached the atmosphere, he sent the data off to his master immediately, ignoring the Star Destroyer looming up behind him, knowing that he would be gone before it got close.

He did not immediately hear the clicking noise coming from the hallway behind him until it was in the cockpit, and he looked up to see Mycal clinging to the ceiling, her eyes milky white with a huge, insane grin on her face.  She dropped on him in the next moment, and he did not have the chance to scream as teeth and fingernails tore away at flesh and cybernetics.

~.oOOo.~

He’s awake.

The message sent a certain relief though Vader, leaving him feeling hopeful once again.  It was an emotion he did not need at the moment, being steps away from his master’s presence, but for now he did not care.  Let the Emperor think he was hopeful, let him weak, let him be distracted by what the emotion could possibly mean. His son was safe, his daughter was safe; these were things that mattered more to him than whatever the old liar could devise.

He banished the feeling as soon as the door to Emperor Palpatine’s throne room opened, just in time to be hit with the full force of his master’s ire, as thick as the traffic during Imperial Center’s rush hour.  He paused to acclimate himself to it, letting it wash over him and leave him undisturbed, before starting forward. As always, he stopped once he reached the stairs leading up to the throne, bending himself down uncomfortably until he was resting on one knee before the Emperor.  Silence filled the room, noticeably vacant of guards and advisers, and Vader had a feeling he knew what was coming.

He was grateful he had the foresight to repair his mask before coming to Coruscant, as he was sure the lightning that was aimed at him next would have torn apart what flesh he had left.  Instead, he grit his teeth against the pain, electronic limbs spasming, alarms for his breathing system going off in his ears. He endured, refusing to give in to panic, refusing to let his pain bleed into the Force, until the assault finally subsided, leaving his respirator wheezing to compensate, but still functioning.

“For twenty years, I endured the skeleton of the Republic, Lord Vader,” Palpatine finally spoke.  “Twenty years I used them as a tool for maintaining order until the Death Star was complete. Now there is no Senate to hold order, and no Death Star to enforce it.  We have never skirted so close to disaster, and it is all thanks to _you.”_

Vader remained kneeling, feeling his anger surge.  Did the Emperor know…? No, he could not have; he would be dead if he truly knew he had allowed the Death Star’s destruction.

“I was not alone in my failings, master,” he replied.  “The arrogance of the weapon courted disaster. Such power is _nothing_ compared to—”

_“Enough!”_

Lightning coursed through him again, and Vader found himself biting his tongue to keep himself from screaming.  He could feel a familiar light then, reaching out across the galaxy, but he shut it out. If he had his way, Luke would never feel pain like this.

“Tarkin, Motti, and the others share the blame, yes,” the Emperor hissed, pulling his power back, “but you are the only one left alive to suffer my anger.  And if you _think_ I will permit you to run away to your little fortress to hide again, you would be gravely _mistaken.”_

Palpatine leaned back on his throne, narrowing his eyes.  He could feel his master reaching to him, trying to find an excuse for his actions, but he refused to give him anything, only fueling his anger.

“You will take your negotiations to Jabba the Hutt directly on Tatooine.  He will be expecting you in two days time. Once completed, you will report back to the fleet.”

A smile spread across his master’s face, showing off yellowed teeth.

“It is fortunate that General Tagge had the wisdom to remove himself from the Death Star before its destruction,” he continued.  “He is to assume primacy immediately, and you will report to him.”

Vader felt his anger immediately spike.  This was not ideal; this did not give him the freedom to care for and train his son, and it left him partially blind to what his daughter could be doing.  Plus, answering to another? Only his master had that honor, and even that relationship was strained to the point of breaking, particularly at the moment.

He was stopped from commenting as the door to the room opened, permitting a short of stature man with an impressive set of cybernetics covering half his face.  The man walked right past Vader as if he were not even there, and the Emperor let out a delighted noise at the sight of him.

“Ah, I have been expecting you, old friend,” Palpatine crooned.  “You are dismissed, Lord Vader.”

Vader stood, and he should have left, made use of the time he had to at least send a message to his son.  He found himself hesitating, narrowing his eyes at the strange man as he approached his master.

“Who is this?” he demanded.

“That is none of your concern,” Palpatine snapped, and Vader had the distinct impression he would not hesitate to demonstrate his power in front of this man if he continued to push his luck.  “You are _dismissed.”_

Wordlessly, Vader turned to leave, though he paused at the door, sparing the man a glare as he committed his face to memory.  Something about this disturbed the Force, in ways similar to the Death Star.

He would find out _why._

~.oOOo.~

It was only a small collection of footage and data files that his dear _friend_ had been able to bring to him, but it answered so very many of his questions that he could not find it in himself to be mad about the small fragments of information.  He was silent as he watched the footage of a boy, fresh out of the Academy, answering to his superiors, performing remarkably on his flights… but also secretly practicing levitation, wielding a lightsaber to save himself and a companion from certain death, struggling to orient himself after waking from a coma, and reaching out through the darkness, saving others by strangling a man to death in a performance that no doubt would have made the man training him proud.

Would have made his _father_ proud.

His rage of the situation made the glass behind him shudder, spider webs of cracks making their way through the panes.  Yet at the same time, he could only smile, amazed by the audacity of Vader and the Jedi both for being able to keep such a secret from him for so long.

Now, he knew.  Now, he would ensure that such power would be his and his alone, or it would die before it could ever spark a fire in _his_ galaxy.

_“Skywalker,”_ Palpatine sneered, letting out a laugh that echoed through the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for your patience and kind words; I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter. As before, updates may still be a bit delayed, though work does seem to be easing back a bit at the moment, so hopefully the next part won't be _too_ delayed. As always, you can follow me [on Pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/SkylaDoragono) for random updates on my progress, and if you want to send me questions. You can do the same at my account [on Tumblr](http://skyladoragono.tumblr.com/), though I don't post about this there that often.
> 
> Been thinking of writing some music for this fic. If I do, I'll include a link in the next update.


	10. Teams

Never let it be said that Vader was incapable of completing his duty, no matter how repulsive he found it to be.

He arrived on Tatooine a day early and immediately called on Jabba at his palace. The place was just as insufferable as he remembered a Hutt’s palace could be, and dealing with the Hutt himself was just as unpleasant as he remembered.  At least Jabba’s… _son_ was not around this time; bad enough he had to endure the slimy creature referring to him as a _Jedi,_ he was in no mood to deal with the little worm on top of it.  He supposed it was his own fault; he brought Jabba’s attitude on himself for arriving as early in the morning as he had, but it was necessary.  He had need of… _other_ services, services that extended beyond the abilities of the Empire.

That service stood behind him now as he stood on a rocky outcropping, looking out at the vast dunes below.  Two bounty hunters — one, a black furred wookiee of a certain ferocity and temperament that had him banned from ever returning to his home planet, and the other a human, in armor he very much recognized.

“You’re the client,” Boba Fett declared, his voice filtered by his helmet, sounding older, but otherwise no different from what he remembered.  Vader half turned, a hidden amused smirk on his face.

“I am, and you’re the best Jabba has,” he replied.  He was not too surprised by this; just about any wookiee was a force to be reckoned with, and, well… Fett was a name that everyone should have known, even if Mandalore refused to acknowledge that name any longer.  “Are you bounty hunters up to the challenge?”

The wookiee let out a harsh sounding growl as Fett rested a hand on his belt.

“Give us the mission, you’ll see,” he declared.

Vader nodded absently, his focus on the wookiee.  “There is an agent I want traced. He is engaged in secret work for the Emperor.  It is a secret I would like for him to share. Bring him to me alive; I would like to have a conversation.”

The wookiee let out a _woof_ ing noise, sounding amused.

“Black Krrsantan says he might not have all his limbs when he delivers him, but he’ll still be talking,” Fett translated.

“Good,” Vader replied, waving the wookiee away.  Black Krrsantan paused, glancing down at Fett curiously, before the he shrugged, turning and starting off.  He waited, ensuring the wookiee was well out of hearing range, before he focused on Fett.

“I know who you are, _clone_ of Jango Fett.”

He could not see Fett’s reaction under all that armor, but he could feel his presence _bristle_ in the Force.  The bounty hunter shifted, his hand resting on his gun, though he did not draw it.

“That supposed to intimidate me?” he challenged.

“No,” Vader replied, hooking his thumbs into his belt.  The casual posture was almost mocking Fett, as if to show he posed no real threat to him. “It was to make a point; a reminder that you can be just as easily undone as your brothers.”

“They were no brothers of mine,” Fett snapped, again looking like he was about ready to draw.  He stilled his hand however. “What do you want?”

Vader smirked humorlessly.  “I need eyes and ears where I currently have none,” he answered.  “Particularly around the former Princess of Alderaan.”

“You just want me to _watch?”_ Fett replied, his disbelief obvious, and Vader knew well why. The bounty already on Leia's head for being a traitor to the Empire was high, enough to make any bounty hunter worth his gun pause.  Once the full scope of her actions became known, not to mention who's daughter she was, that bounty would rise exponentially.

“Watch, and keep others from collecting on her,” Vader replied.  “If you’re _lucky,_ you will be _well_ compensated for your time.”

Boba Fett let out an irritated noise, knowing very well that he would be paid regardless.  No, Vader’s words had been a jab, one he knew would be very effective against the clone.

“Better hope that bounty doesn’t become better than your offer,” Fett growled out, turning to leave.

Vader was left alone, staring out at the vast expanse of sand that was his homeworld; his and Luke’s.  There was a certain nostalgia here, but like everything on Tatooine, it was harsh and unkind, reminding him far too much of events best left forgotten.  After a moment, he turned away; his business was concluded, and as much as he was loathe to return to a fleet he was no longer in command of, he had little desire to linger.

~.oOOo.~

Leia did not know what to do with herself.  Since returning from Cymoon, she had felt restless, desperate to be doing something — anything — other than sitting around and thinking  She could not think, not right now; all that would come to her mind were cool Alderaanian nights by the grand fireplace, exhausted after a long day of training, but still awake enough to hear another story spun of her father’s heroics, of how the Jedi fought to preserve the peace, despite all the odds stacked against them.

She wondered how many of those stories had been lies too.

On days when she was chased away from the hanger or the cargo unload, or wherever it was she tried to help out at, she found herself training with a remote.  She would rather it be another person, or at the very least more than one remote, but she did not have that luxury, forcing herself into a patient state of mind in order to deal with something that was far too easy for her at this point.  Her lightsaber — her father’s lightsaber, Anakin’s… Vader’s — hummed in her hands as she moved, the sound comforting in its own way, though it did little to help, not when she _knew._

She had to tell someone; it might have helped, might have made the burden of the truth easier to bear.  At the same time, there was no way she could; people did not believe she was the daughter of a Jedi now.  To tell them her father had not died, but became Darth Vader? She would be a disgrace to the Rebellion and everything she had fought for.

No, this truth was hers to shoulder alone; no one else could help her with it.

“Hey, Leia…?”

She had not known when Wedge entered the room, so entrenched in her own thoughts and the remote that him suddenly speaking actually startled her.  The remote chose that moment to fire as well, and she let out a yelp as her shoulder was hit. Frustrated, she very nearly slammed it against the wall with the Force, managing to curb her anger at the last moment and power it down instead.

“...you okay?” Wedge asked, and she did not need to be looking at him to know he was worried.

“Yes… yes, Wedge, I’m fine,” she replied, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than him.  “What can I do for you?”

He stared at her for a long moment, like he was not sure she was telling him the truth, before a grin spread across his face.

“That would be what _I_ can do for _you,”_ he replied, a very typical Corellian smugness in his voice as she turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.  “Got a proposition for you: want to keep flying with Red Squadron?”

Leia stared at that, for a moment caught off guard.  After how poorly she performed, regardless of actually succeeding in destroying the Death Star, she did not think anyone would let her near a cockpit again.

“I… wouldn’t object,” she replied cautiously, as if she expected to be walking into a trap.  The grin on his face was not helping.

“Good!” he exclaimed, and an awkward silence fell between them for a good minute.

“...what’s the catch?” Leia finally asked, causing Wedge to flinch.

“They, uh…” he began, shuffling on his feet.  “They want you to go through flight school.”

The look on her face must have shown how quickly her anger peaked, because his hands immediately flew up protectively.

“No one’s saying you’re a bad pilot!” he said, so quickly it all sounded like one word.  “They’re just concerned with how much difficulty you have working with others if you’re not the one in the lead.”

She wanted to still be angry… but Wedge was right.  A sigh escaped from Leia as her shoulders fell.

“...I guess part of me is still used to being the princess,” she admitted sheepishly.

“To be fair, you’re also a Jedi,” Wedge replied.  “I mean, that still gives you a one up on everyone else.”

Leia frowned at that; _Jedi._ If this was how the Jedi truly were, lying and cheating their way to their goals, then she was not very sure she wanted to _be_ one anymore.

“Besides,” Wedge continued, that grin working its way back onto his face, “the school’s run by an old friend of yours.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke could feel himself growing more and more unsettled with each day that passed since he woke up.  What he had woken up _to_ did not help matters, and it was still difficult for him to process; the power was out, someone was protecting him, there was madness and death, and he just reacted the only way he could think to at that moment.  It was not until later that he realized his arm was missing, that Vader was not around, and that Teak was…

Teak was…

Luke curled up on the bed that he supposed was meant for him, if only because the room it occupied also had his model T-16 waiting for him on a table.  Over two weeks he had been unconscious — it was a blessing he had even recovered at all — and he could feel a heavy weight press against him over missing so much time.  Apparently the Rebels had not only attacked the palace, but had also gone after Cymoon, destroying the weapon factory there. Now rumors were flying that Lord Vader had been _demoted,_ and someone calling himself a grand general was in charge of the fleet.  Luke had heard Montferrat a number of times yelling back at the man, pointing out that his last orders were to remain on standby over Mustafar, and that was exactly what he was going to do, before terminating the call with whomever this general was.  The power play was ridiculous, and just too much for Luke to wrap his head around.

His com chirped with an incoming message, and he unfolded himself, standing up to collect it so he could answer.

“It is good to hear you are well, Luke.”

He very nearly cried at Vader’s familiar voice, practically melting back onto the bed.

“It’s good to hear from you too, my lord,” he replied after a moment, his voice shaking with emotion.  He allowed his eyes to fall closed, reaching out across the stars and feeling for Vader’s familiar warm shadow.  It enveloped him immediately, bringing with it a sense of safety and security he had been lacking. But he could also feel the anger lying underneath, not directed at him, but…

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he asked softly.  “The Emperor demoted you?”

A hiss of annoyance came from the other end.

“Yes,” he finally replied, and Luke bowed his head.

“...did we do the right thing?” he asked softly.

Silence greeted him, to the point where he could just make out the faint sounds of a shuttle in the background, over the sound of Vader breathing.  At least he seemed to still have some freedom, if he was allowed to fly himself around.

“Morally, in the scope of the Force, yes,” he finally answered.  “For the sake of ourselves…”

No, no they had not; Vader did not need to finish that for Luke to know it was true.  He took a deep breath, pausing a moment to rub at his face with his arm, before he spoke again.

“I saw the arm you had prepared for me,” he began.  “I appreciate it, but…”

“You find it inadequate?”

Luke hesitated a moment, trying to find the right words.

“...I’m not going to stop fighting,” he answered softly.  “I’ll need something that will be able to take more punishment than I can.”

Silence answered him again, but he could feel Vader’s approval through the Force.

“Speak to the droids,” he replied.  “They will build you one similar to my own.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Luke said happily, before he paused, a thought accompanied with vague memories coming to him.  “My lord?”

“Yes, Luke?”

“You… did save me, right?”

Confusion radiated from Vader; funny, it seemed he could pick up on what the Dark Lord was feeling even better than he could before.

“Yes, of course.”

Luke let out a breath, feeling his face burning in the next moment.

“I’m sorry if I said anything strange out there,” he apologized.  “I must have been hallucinating. I thought… I thought it was my father coming to my rescue.”

There was silence once again, and he could feel Vader’s presence withdraw, almost _recoil_ as if Luke had slapped him.  He frowned, mouth open to ask what was wrong, before Vader quickly cut him off.

“Do not worry about it, Luke.”

~.oOOo.~

Ailanis Danres did not know what she was supposed to do. That Imperial admiral — Montferrat, of all the people she could have been caught by — wanted to imprison her on the _Devastator,_ where she no doubt would have stayed until the gunnery crew needed target practice, if the rumors were true. Lieutenant Tanbris has at least wanted to keep her locked up somewhere in the palace where she would not cause trouble. Luke, however, begged them not to; considering what they had witnessed the boy do, she was not too shocked that they listened.

It left her free to roam the halls of the palace, and she had access to just about everywhere that did not require a data cylinder. They also locked her out of the coms, which was expected, but a fairly useless gesture. She did not have anyone she could call; she was likely presumed dead at this point, and suddenly calling in after days in the middle of Vader’s palace would do her no good. In addition, the Alliance likely moved on and changed com codes by now. She was stuck, with the possibility of being executed as soon as the Dark Lord got back.

On one of her wanderings, she caught a strange humming sound coming from the end of the hall she was in. Curious, she followed it, coming out to a large training room with Luke in the center, squaring off against a battle droid. The droid seemed to be custom programmed to fight with one of those laser swords, similar to the one the kid was using. Danres leaned against the wall as she watched, noting the new arm the kid was sporting; it was not the almost human-like one she had seen, and instead looked more like one of Vader’s. Somehow she was not all that surprised.

“And here I thought you’d have a red one of those things,” she spoke up once there was a lull in the fight, and Luke raised a hand. The droid instantly stopped, going to a ready stance as he closed down his lightsaber.

“As I understand it, the crystals that power these are not red naturally,” he explained.  “Lord Vader mentioned something about ‘bleeding’ a crystal once; I think that’s what makes them red.”

“Hunh…” she muttered in response, eyeing the rack of lightsabers on the wall.  She doubted Vader made all of those, which meant they had belonged to Jedi at some point.

“Can I ask you something?” Luke began, drawing her attention back to him.  “Why did you protect me?”

Danres shifted, an uncomfortable look on her face as she folded her arms over her chest.

“...you called out for your father in your sleep,” she explained.  “Family is a big deal on my planet, and I… my father died when I was still young, during the Clone Wars.  Mother said I would do the same thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said softly, and she tried to hide her surprise with a nonchalant shrug; this kid was far too _nice_ to be an Imperial.

“We were Separatists; the Republic expected us to die, if you believe what the leaders used to say,” she replied.  “It made continuing to rebel easier when the galaxy switched hands, anyway.”

The comment actually got a faint smile out of the young man.

“I don’t believe anyone should be expected to die, no matter what side of the fight they’re on,” he began softly, before he let out a soft sigh, shaking his head.  “My father died during the Clone Wars as well. I don’t know the specifics, but I believe he died protecting the Emperor.”

Danres stared at him, trying to decide if he was being serious or not.  He… did not know? How could he _not_ know?  How could Vader not tell him, especially when she barely knew either of them, and it was _obvious._

“But Lord Vader knew him, told me about him, and my mother,” Luke continued, a soft smile coming to his face.  “When I was growing up at the Academy, he would check in with me, tell me stories…”

He trailed off, looking like he was remembering something painful, before he turned away.  Danres was quickly starting to piece things together, not sure if she was right, but it made her concerned.  This kid… if he really was Vader’s, they must have hidden him away, protected his identity even from himself.  But the kid grew up too nice, so they just… did not tell him, wrote him off.

But if that were the case, why would Vader care enough to still look after him?

“So, what are you going to do now?” Luke asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.  “I don’t think Vader will be returning here any time soon, though he does know what happened.”

Vader knew she was part of a team that infiltrated his palace, but she was not ordered to be executed.  Luke must have begged him not to kill her, like he did with Montferrat and Tanbris. If that was the case, this boy was _truly_ terrifying.

The problem was, that nice smile and clearly outer rim charm was starting to work on _her_ too.

“I’ll stick around, if you’re not out to kill me,” she replied.  “I’m a little curious about you.”

“Me?” Luke asked, staring at her, before letting out a sheepish noise.  “I’m just a pilot.”

Sure he was.

~.oOOo.~

To say that Leia was happy to see Hera Syndulla again would be vastly understating the point. She had not seen the twi’lek woman since she was sixteen, though she had heard plenty of what happened to her, from the liberation of Lothal… to Kanan’s death and Ezra’s disappearance — two Jedi that had been part of her crew that had been more like family for her.  It just meant that she hugged her extra tight when she arrived on the battleship being used for the flight school. Hera let out a happy noise, giving her an extra squeeze before pulling away, holding her by the shoulders.

“When Wedge told me it was _you_ that blew up the Death Star, I could hardly believe it,” she said.  “How did you manage to keep being a Jedi secret for so long?”

A soft smile came to Leia’s face. “...one of the first things Master Kenobi taught me was how to conceal my presence.  He said it was… necessary.”

Necessary… so she would never know, so her father would never know.  She could not help but wonder if that was his idea of _kindness._

“Leia?” Hera asked softly, drawing her attention back.  She shook her head at her concern, reaching up to give her hand a squeeze, before stepping out of grasp.

“I heard a new group of Incom employees defected,” she said, changing the subject.  Hera gave her a concerned look, but let it go for now, instead turning to lead her through the hanger.

“Yes,” she answered, “their expertise has been vital in improving the design of the X-wings.  Though I have a feeling you’re sticking to the one you flew at Yavin, aren’t you?”

Leia smiled at that.  “You know me too well.”

“No, I know _pilots_ too well,” she responded, reaching over to rest her hand on Leia’s shoulder again.  “Don’t worry; I’ll have you trained up and back at the main base before Biggs and Wedge have a chance to get in trouble without you.”

~.oOOo.~

It had barely been a week, and already Vader was sick of Tagge’s so called leadership.  His overly cautious nature made him barely tolerable on the best of days. Add to that his need to enforce his title of _Grand_ General, the self assuredness that the Emperor had faith in his ability, and the need to ensure that Vader was _watched,_ and it was a small wonder how he had not killed him yet.  It certainly was not from lack of desire, just that he had no wish to tempt the Emperor’s anger more than he already had.  The last thing he wanted was to get himself so injured he could not protect his children.

The fact that his abilities were being used to hunt down pirates like a newly recruited bush pilot was just another insult to add to this list.  His fury over it aside, they _were_ a problem, one he would have stamped out faster than this.  The opportunistic scum had gotten bold, ambushing just about any Imperial cargo shipment they could get their hands on.  Tagge suspected they were using a drone to do it; Vader already knew, just from the lack of life on board. They had succeeded in capturing one of the drones, and he could not help but appreciate the level of sophistication; no mere pirate programmed this ship, and he needed to know who _did._

He needed more than just two bounty hunters to achieve his goals.

It did not take much, really; convincing Tagge to allow the drone to return to its point of origin with a contingent of stormtroopers aboard as well as himself had been the hardest part.  But he succeeded, allowing the drone to lead him directly to the pirates, along with a familiar sight. Old droidekas guarded the ship, though these were nothing like what he fought during the Clone Wars; their shields and weapons were vastly improved, not to mention their intelligence.  It made them actually difficult to deal with, making Vader all the more interested in whomever was outfitting these pirates.

With the pirates dealt with and his hands on who their supplier was, he had only needed to rid himself of his babysitter.  It was almost laughably easy to plant information, letting Tagge know that his trusted man was the one working with the pirates, leaking shipment information.  He was free for the moment, it would be easy to slip away and…

...and what?  He was not a subtle information gatherer; choking the lives out of people and inspiring terror was the kind of work he did.  This whole process would go much faster with a gentler hand backed by a kind face…

He pressed a hand to the bow of his helmet when he realized what he needed to do, guilt starting to claw at his spine.  There was no way he could continue to use his child like this, but at the moment, he did not have a choice.

The very least he could do was use his temporary freedom to make the call by holo.

Luke looked like a bit of a mess when he appeared, short hair matted with sweat and face flushed from working himself back into shape.  He could not help but smile at the sight; Skywalkers could never sit still, could they?

“How can I help you, my lord?” Luke asked, likely sensing the urgency Vader was feeling.

“I’m sending you on a mission of utmost importance,” he answered, hooking his thumbs in his belt.  “As you are unattached to a squad officially at the moment, you are a free agent, and will be able to travel as such.”

Luke’s eyes widened slightly, and Vader knew he would not need to explain what he meant by that.  With Black Squadron all but annihilated over the Death Star and the boy unconscious for so long, Luke was, essentially, considered a lost unit.  It gave him the opportunity to operate under the radar, though he would have no official support; he was on his own with whatever and whomever he brought with him.

“Understood, my lord,” he replied.  “What’s the mission?”

Force forgive him for doing this; he did not deserve the devotion of this boy.

“I need you to locate an individual, discreetly.  She goes by the name ‘Doctor Aphra’.”

~.oOOo.~

Leia felt her heart pounding in her chest as she tried desperately to focus on the fight in front of her, particularly the _very_ distinctive TIE fighter she had latched onto.  She knew who was supposed to be in that fighter, knew that she should be firing at it.  Her finger was _on_ the trigger; she needed to fire and _end_ this…!

_Did you kill Anakin Skywalker?!_

_No._

A sob stuck in her throat; why? Why like this?  Why did she have to find out now, after spending so much time preparing herself for the day she would have to kill—?

“Red Five! You’ve got one on your tail!”

Leia snapped out of it just in time to see the TIE fighter on her scope before it fired, annihilating her ship.  Her body jerked as the screen before her went blank, and the simulator pod ground to a stop, leaving her with an abysmally disappointing score.  She pounded a fist against the control console, struggling desperately to keep her temper in check. She needed to stop this; since coming to Hera’s flight school, she had been steadily doing worse, her concentration increasingly waning with each run.  Flying against a simulated version of Vader — of her _father_ — this time around definitely had not helped.

She pushed herself out of the pod, not at all surprised to see Hera focusing a concerned look at her.  There was no way she could even face the general at the moment, so she turned away, heading to the far reaches of the hanger bay, hoping for somewhere to go and _attempt_ to calm down.

“Leia!”

Of course, she could not make an escape that easily.  She managed to nearly make it to the corridor that would take her to the bunk she shared with some of the new recruits before Hera caught up to her.  The general moved to reach for her, but seemed to think better of it, almost as if she could sense her mood.

“What was that back there?” she asked.

“...hesitated,” Leia provided as an excuse, feeling as lame as the word that came out of her mouth.  Hera _very_ clearly did not believe it for a second, putting her hands on her hips as she raised an eyebrow.

“I would have thought you of all people would never hesitate flying against Vader, even in a sim,” she replied.  “What’s _really_ wrong?”

Leia felt her resolve tremble; she had been holding on to this secret for weeks now, desperate to understand why it had been kept from her.  More than once, she thought of just leaving; taking her X-wing and hunting Kenobi down herself. She very well might have if she was not so certain she would never find him if he did not want to be found.

“I… I can’t,” she finally managed to get out.  “I can’t tell you.”

Hera’s expression softened slightly.  “...is it about your father?”

Leia’s eyes widened, fear rising in her expression, though it eased back slightly when Hera raised her hand in a placating gesture.

“One of the others said you were calling for him in your sleep the other day,” she replied softly.  “Leia, so much has been happening. You haven’t had the time to mourn…”

Leia stared, ashamed that it took her a moment to realize she was referring to Bail Organa.  She pressed a hand to her mouth, guilt churning in her stomach; it was true, she had been so busy since the destruction of Alderaan, between ensuring the future of her people to everything that was Cymoon, she had not even spared a thought for the man that raised her.  It took her a moment before she could trust her voice, finally shaking her head.

“No, I…” she began, hesitantly lowering her hand. “On Cymoon, I-I found out my father was still alive.  My birth father.”

Hera’s eyes widened.  “Anakin Skywalker? Where is he?  Is he a prisoner?”

A prisoner?  If only it could be so simple; Leia’s shoulders slumped, a tired, defeated sigh escaping from her.

“No… he’s working for the Empire,” she answered softly.  She glanced up at the general, watching her puzzle out whom she was referring to, before her eyes widened as realization struck her.

“No…” she whispered.  “Oh no… Leia, are you sure?”

Leia could only nod numbly, before she shook her head, struggling to pull herself together.

“This is why I can’t tell anyone,” she explained, her voice breaking slightly.  “Everything I’ve ever done will be called into question, not to mention how afraid people will be knowing I have the same power he does.”

Hera opened her mouth to reply, only to close it, a thoughtful look coming to her face instead.

“You know, before… everything happened,” she began carefully, “we had another person with us, someone I think would understand your situation better than anyone in the Alliance.”

She met Leia’s gaze then, a determined look on her face.

“I’m going to bring him here,” she said, “and I want you to learn from him, even if you think I’m crazy, all right?”

Leia could only stare, finally nodding after a moment.  Why did she have a bad feeling about this…?


	11. Partners in Crime

This was supposed to be an easy steal.

Okay, so  _ maybe  _ there was nothing easy about infiltrating a quarantine world, but Aphra had certainly been in worse situations and had gotten out just fine.  Sure, the Triple Zero personality matrix was a dangerous thing to have loose on the galaxy even though she personally felt it would be put to better use in an armory and, okay, it  _ probably  _ should have been just outright destroyed instead of just locked away.  That was what made it all the more  _ tempting  _ for an archaeologist like her.

Well, that, and she kind of needed it, but that was beside the point.

Slipping in had been easy, and she would have squealed in happiness when she was finally able to lay hands on that precious component if she was not sure there were some kind of sound triggers for the security system in the room.  Getting  _ out,  _ however, had been another story.  She miscalculated how she needed to crawl, setting off the alarms once she tripped the laser grid that protected the Triple Zero chip.  Oh, and also the security system; Aphra did not like dodging blasters wielded by humans, and by an automated system even less. She managed to make it to the door at least, but that did not help her situation any, considering the armed battle droids and the masked alien waiting for her on the other side.  She imagined Utani Xane would be a nice little Kallidahin… well, if she had not already stolen from him several times already.

Their usual verbal spat was interrupted, however, as one of the droids announced they had an incoming ship broadcasting Imperial codes.  Xane turned his blank white face to the nearby landing platform as the ship landed. It was old; definitely pre-Clone Wars and lovingly maintained by someone that had the money to keep up with such a relic.  Aphra could not help the grin of appreciation, though that quickly turned to mild surprise when someone left the ship.

The kid was young, definitely under twenty at the most, shortly cropped sandy hair and bright blue eyes setting off the black clothing he was wearing.  She imagined it was an attempt to make him look older, but it really did not work. The cape was a nice touch though.

He stopped just before Xane, who gestured impatiently at him.

“Who are you?”

The kid hesitated, his uncertainty on how to respond making him look even younger.

“I represent the interests of Lord Vader,” he finally answered, getting Aphra to raise both eyebrows.  Darth Vader? Seriously? Actually, now that she thought about it, with the cut of his clothes, he did look like he could pass for a mini Vader.  “I’m here to take Doctor Aphra into my custody.”

Well, that was interesting, and Aphra was not entirely sure that would be an improvement to her current situation.  Either way, Xane did not seem to be going for it, if the scoff he let out was any clue.

“This is a quarantine world, boy,” the Kallidahin grumbled at him.  “Treaties clearly state the Empire has no authority in—”

“I assure you, Lord Vader doesn’t care about whatever treaties you have,” the boy interrupted, and Aphra could not help the grin that came to her face.  Oh, she liked him, even if he was going to end up being bad news for her. “I’m taking Miss Aphra with me. How many droids you have left here to protect you depends on if you make this easy or not.”

Aphra could tell, even with the featureless mask, that Xane was going for “not”, even before he spoke.

“Escort this ‘representative’ back to his ship,” he ordered, waving to the battle droids.

The boy let out a tired sigh as two of the battle droids approached him and… Aphra did not see  _ what  _ even happened, but suddenly those droids were sent flying, impacting hard against the wall on either side of her, hard enough to crack their spinal support columns.  They fell to the ground as Xane let out a terrified squawk, ordering the remaining droids to kill the kid before bolting.

Suddenly finding herself free to move, Aphra took all of a moment to look between the kid (did he just pull a kriffing lightsaber?) and Xane’s retreating back, before electing to go after the Kallidahin.  The kid looked like he could handle himself, and he was not the one running away with the personality matrix she had worked so hard to find.

“Xane!” she shouted as she pulled up on him, a part of her grateful that he was dumb enough to turn around.  She took a running leap at him, tackling him to the ground, landing with enough force to knock the chip package out of his hands.

Aphra’s eyes widened as it bounced along the ground, skittering toward the edge of the platform they were on.  Without thinking, she bolted up to her feet, pounding after the package as it fell over the edge, diving after it, arm outstretched and…!

And… nothing?

Aphra stared as both her and the personality matrix seemed to stop in mid-air, like the both of them were suspended in time.  She could hear the sound of someone approaching, followed by Xane’s terrified scream as he suddenly went flying past her, suspended in the air like she was.  Turning her head, she could see the kid again, one arm outstretched toward her, the other toward the Kallidahin.

“You know, I’m not as good at this as Lord Vader is,” the boy began.  “My grip just might slip holding onto so much at once.”

Xane suddenly jerked downward, falling just enough to elicit a terrified scream from him before he stopped.

“T-t-take the woman!  Get her out of my sight!” he wailed.  “Just let me go!”

Oh, Aphra knew what was coming; the kid seemed like the type to do that sort of thing.  Thankfully, he did not disappoint.

“As you wish,” the boy said, before he lowered the hand that was somehow holding Xane up.  The Kallidahin dropped like a stone, though his terrified scream was cut short as he landed in a passing garbage scow, alive and intact, save for his dignity.  Aphra could not help but  _ laugh,  _ enjoying the look of utter confusion written all over his now bare face, his mask dislodged by the fall.

“Should have been more specific, Xane!” she shouted after him, just as she felt herself pulled back to the platform.  She turned as the personality matrix went flying past her into the boy’s hand, ignoring it for the moment in favor of appraising him.  Someone with mystical powers like Vader, hunh? He did not look like much, even if he was dressed like his lord; maybe that was the point.

“Was this worth it?” he asked, curiously turning the package over in his hands, before offering it back to her.  Aphra was more than happy to pluck it from his hand, securing it in one of the pouches on her belt.

“Depending on what happens next, you might get to see  _ how  _ worth it,” she replied, drawing a smile out of him, one that was far too kind to be on an Imperial face.

“We will need to rendezvous with Lord Vader,” he replied.  “You’ll have plenty of time to show me.”

~.oOOo.~

There was a time, long ago now, where the death of Jedi had filled his soul.  It had only been a temporary thing, his bloodlust was never quite satiated in his youth, but it was the driving force for everything that made up who he was.  That changed when he nearly died, pure spite driving him onward for over a decade until his brother found him. He kept surviving on that spite, even when his master betrayed him, even when his criminal enterprise fell apart, even when the thing that was supposed to help him find his vengeance failed to work—

No, that was not true; that was the point his spite had finally dried out, to the pain of being hit in the head with the blunt end of a lightsaber and the tune of a young apprentice begging his master to spare him.

Maul had felt lost when that happened, just as lost as he had been when he had gone back for his brother’s body on Mandalore.  For the first time in his life, someone had faith in him, despite the fact he had given young Ezra no reason for it. For the first time in his life, his soul had been filled by something other than death.

But now Kanan was dead, and Ezra missing to the point he may as well have been dead.  He had persisted, however; protecting Hera and the future of the Force she carried with her until she gave birth.  Her child was safe now, and… well, he had no place among freedom fighters, not when his bitterness over a former master beyond his reach still chained him to hate and despair.

So he cast himself aside, drowning in the underground he had become so familiar with over the years, waiting for time to make its approach on him.  He was pushing sixty standard years now (he supposed; possibly even seventy, though he could not say for certain), and even without the Dark Side of the Force chipping away at his very being, he knew his time was coming.  Spending it drinking, reflecting on the past and his mistakes, seemed like an acceptable thing to do, given all that happened in his life.

Sensing Hera approach him was a mild surprise, breaking up the numbness he had settled comfortably into.  He glanced around his hood at her when she sat down, waving down the bartender for a drink.

“You are really hard to find when you don’t want to be found,” she finally said, favoring him with an amused smile.  He let out a snort at that, nursing the glass he had been sipping from for the last hour.

“That  _ is  _ the point,” Maul replied mildly.  Silence settled between them a moment, before he continued, “How fairs little Jacen?”

Hera let out a soft laugh.  “He’s fine; talking and throwing things with his mind.  Normal toddler things.”

Maul let out another snort at that, shaking his head, before glancing at Hera, studying her as her drink was delivered.

“You’re not here for his sake,” he finally said as she sipped from the glass.  She paused long enough to set the it down, turning toward him.

“There’s another Jedi among us now,” Hera explained, her voice soft.  “She’s young; younger than what Ezra would be, and she just learned something that is shaking everything she believes in.”

“And you come to  _ me  _ for guidance?” he asked, a bemused tone to his voice.

“She needs it, just like Ezra and Kanan did,” Hera replied softly.  “If the three of you together taught me anything, it’s that nothing, not even the Force, is black and white.  She needs that lesson now, more than anything.”

Maul let out a sigh, though he could not deny the earnest sincerity in her words.  He raised his glass, about to take a long draw from it, but he paused to ask:

“Who is she?”

“She’s the daughter of Anakin Skywalker.”

The glass never made it to his lips, and it was through sheer force of will that he managed to lower it without breaking it.  He turned an incredulous look to her, as if to say there was no way  _ that  _ particular Jedi had offspring.  Yet at the same time, he was not  _ shocked  _ either, given that man’s certain proclivity for breaking the rules.

He tossed a few credit chips on the counter, paying for both their drinks, before taking up his walking staff.  His lightsaber was hidden within as always, and he could feel his kyber crystals  _ hum  _ with the prospect of having a purpose again.

“I hope you brought the  _ Ghost,”  _ he commented idly, leaning heavily on his staff.  “My ship will need a tow.”

~.oOOo.~

The  _ Ark Angel  _ was probably the strangest ship he had ever seen.  On the outside, it looked like an amalgamation of ships mishmashed together into something that somehow worked and given a paint job that reminded him of a Togruta’s montrails.  Of course, there was a  _ reason  _ for the ship’s outward, haphazard appearance, and Luke found himself quietly marveling at the various droid construction equipment scattered all over the main hold.  Even DV let out a low whistle of appreciation, before rolling over to a power socket, happy for a recharge. Tanbris looked less than thrilled by the display, quickly excusing himself to go program the rendezvous coordinates into the ship’s navicomputer.  Aphra tossed him the unlock keycard before waving him off, settling in front of a massive computer display.

“Go on, have fun, not like I’m going much of anywhere with a bunch of Imperials on board,” she said absently as Tanbris disappeared down a corridor.  “How  _ did  _ you guys find me, anyway?”

“I had people that owed me money,” Danres spoke up from where she was looking over some schematics in mild curiosity.  “Luke took care of the rest.”

Luke opened his mouth to protest, to say he had not done much.  Aphra glanced back at him, studying him with a critical eye, before turning back to the computer screen.

“If mini Vader is anything like big Vader, I can guess how that went,” she replied.  Luke felt his face grow hot as Danres snorted back a laugh, though whether it was in anger or embarrassment, he was not sure.

“The point is, we found you,” he snapped out, trying to get the color in his face to go down.  Aphra did not need to be facing him for him to see the grin on her face at his response.

“And why would you need to do that, hm?” she asked.

Luke took a moment to let out a breath before answering, “Lord Vader said he’s encountered some of your work.  Beyond wanting to speak to you about it, I’m not sure.”

“Well hopefully getting to your rendezvous will take a few hours,” she replied, “because it’s going to take me at least that long to get past the code lock on this personality matrix.”

Luke fell quiet, frowning at the data that was flying across her screen.  Somehow it  _ felt  _ familiar, the kind of familiarity he felt when he had worked on DV to bring him back online.  He was not sure if it was guidance from the Force, but he found himself stepping forward, keying in a number of commands despite Aphra’s protests.  A positive chime rang over the computer’s speaker as the commands were accepted, and she slowly turned a look of awe at him.

“How did you…?” she began, before falling silent, studying him.  Luke shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very self conscious of what he was wearing and how it made him look.  It was something Montferrat had come up with; when giving him supplies before he left on his mission, he had included a change of clothes — to look like a proper agent of the Empire instead of a pilot, he had said.  The black shirt and slacks were not all that unusual; the collar of the shirt was even annoyingly tight like every other Imperial uniform. The long vest, especially with how it fell on him, as well as the cape gave him a certain  _ look,  _ as well as the distinct impression he was being teased.

Aphra finally grabbed the component package, hopping off her chair as they all felt the tug of the ship going into hyperspace.  She let out a faint hum, pausing by Luke and favoring him with a smile.

“You’re even more interesting than I thought, Sir Mini Vader.”

Danres outright laughed that time, getting Luke to turn a fresh shade of red.

“It’s  _ Luke,”  _ he replied.  “Luke Skywalker.”

“Right, right,  _ Luke,”  _ Aphra replied, reaching for an inactive protocol droid shell.  “Help me with this, will you?”

Danres came over to help as well, and with a bit of tugging and pulling, the three of them managed to get the durasteel grey droid in a seated position on a workbench.  Aphra climbed up behind it once it was settled, popping open its cranium and getting to work.

“Just one second…” she murmured, sliding in the component package.  There was a click as it made contact with the droid’s internal systems, followed by a soft hum as a power up sequence began.  Aphra looked entirely pleased with herself as she settled the back plate of the droid’s head into place, securing down the last screw as the droid’s eyes lit up a bright, blood red.

Luke felt more than saw Danres take a step back as the droid’s head swiveled, taking the three of them in.

“Oh, hello,” he greeted in a low, almost pleasing male voice.  He took a moment to stand as Aphra looked him over, making sure he was moving properly.  It drew the droid’s attention to her, and he studied her in a way that even made Luke a little nervous.

“I’m Zero-Zero-Zero, or Triple Zero if you prefer,” the droid introduced.  “I’m a protocol droid specialized in etiquette, customs, translation, and torture.  Charmed to meet you, I’m sure.”

Both Luke and Danres exchanged uneasy looks as the droid politely offered Aphra his hand.  She, however, did not seem the least bit concerned.

“Override imprint ‘master’ on all those present,” she ordered in response.  “Codename: Aphra, codename: Luke, and codename: Danres. I’ll add the others later.”

She reached for the droid’s hand then, but surprisingly, he held himself back.

“Ah, better not shake hands then; may route a fatal shock through my palm.  Old habits die hard and all that.”

Luke had never seen someone drop their hand as fast as Aphra did.

“Since there is no one present that I may murder, how may I be of assistance?”

Aphra motioned the protocol droid to follow her to the back of the hold, near where DV was plugged in.  Luke paused a moment to glance at Danres and the slightly pale look to her dark skin. Her gaze shifted over to him when she realized he was looking at her, and she let out a sigh, deflating slightly.

“You know, considering it’s Vader that wanted to find this woman, I’m not as shocked by all of this as I should be.”

A rueful smile came to Luke’s face; that sounded like a Rebel’s way of thinking at work, but he was not about to point out how wrong about him she was.  Instead, he followed Aphra and Triple Zero, arriving just in time to see her haul what looked like an astromech of a similar model to DV out of some spare parts.

“I need you to wake this guy up,” she said, and Triple Zero paused.  For a droid with a set facial expression, he was good at looking at her like she was insane.  It was a sentiment that Luke shared at the moment.

“You went through all this,” he began, waving to Triple Zero, “to revive an astromech?”

Aphra looked up from the astrodroid as DV let out a low boop from where he was plugged in.

“He’s not an astromech, he’s a ‘blastomech’,” she explained, grinning cheekily at the terrible name.  “Beetee-one is a prototype specialized assassin droid that went homicidal and destroyed the base it was stationed on before jettisoning itself into space.”

She patted the top of the droid’s angular head as Luke gave it a wary look.

“Don’t look like that; the Imperial R-and-D team that was working on him only uploaded a Tarkin Initiative Base on him; idiots,” she scoffed.  “I’ve got him fitted with stronger behavior inhibitors, but I can’t get him to wake up.”

She waved toward Triple Zero, who seemed to understand his purpose now, if the pleased cant of his head was any indication.

“I see,” he began.  “As I am also a product of the Tarkin Initiative, I am well versed in all tech languages that could be used for research bases.  Waking him up will be a simple matter.”

Triple Zero mimed clearing his throat as if he were an organic as Luke’s hand went for where his borrowed lightsaber was hidden, a bad feeling creeping up his spine.  It did not help that Aphra slid from behind BT-1 to stand next to him, a hand on her blaster. The droid said something, likely the wake up command, and the blastomech’s sensor light immediately snapped on.  In the next moment, panels and  _ panels  _ of weapons were popping open on the droid, revealing more firepower than anything the size of an astromech had any right to carry.  DV let out a wail, unhooking himself from the power station and zipping behind Luke as his lightsaber came up, Aphra snapping her blaster up not long after him, though he was not sure how either of their weapons would be good against  _ all of that. _

Fortunately, Triple Zero put himself between BT-1 and the three of them, letting out a reprimanding noise.

“Beetee-one, you cannot do that!” he admonished.  “They are our masters!”

The droid reached over, clunking the blastomech on his angular head.

“Besides, who would clean up the mess?”

BT seemed to consider that, before he closed up all his weapon slots.  Luke let out a breath he did not realize he was holding, closing down his lightsaber as Aphra slumped against a nearby bulkhead.

“Whew… two activations survived,” she muttered, rubbing at her face.  “You think I’d be used to this by now…”

Just then, a small shudder went through the ship, followed by a lurch as it left hyperspace.  Luke took his attention off Aphra a moment, smiling faintly as he felt Vader’s familiar presence close by, knowing he would be docking with the ship shortly.  Aphra looked up, almost like she expected the Dark Lord to materialize on the ship, before she let out a groan.

“What?  I don’t even get a break before I find out if I can survive big Vader?”

~.oOOo.~

Leia felt uneasy the moment she woke up that morning, something she had not been able to shake even well into the afternoon.  Lessons had been put on hold when Hera left, so she had nothing to really take her mind off of it; at least nothing she felt was  _ productive.  _ She spent some time seeking out a quiet place to meditate, finally finding it in a secluded, underused part of the catwalk that overlooked the main hanger.  Settling down on the ground as soon as she was sure she would not be bothered, Leia took a deep breath, allowing herself to sink into the Force.

There was little comfort to be found in it; she could feel life itself churning around her, like everyone on the ship knew something was coming, but they did not understand  _ why.  _ She scrunched her face up, frowning, desperate to understand…

...and then she felt it.  Something cold, coming out of hyperspace; something that brought death with it wherever it went…

Leia leapt to her feet, just in time to see the  _ Ghost  _ land in its usual spot, bringing that feeling of death all the more closer to her.  She held her breath, pulling her lightsaber from her belt as she watched first Hera emerge, then…

He was a zabrak, that much she could see, but he was not colored like any zabrak she had ever seen.  Where most were a very pale sort of olive color, he was stark  _ black,  _ lines of red highlighting his face and disappearing under the collar of his tunic.  His steps were heavy and loud, and a look down showed he was not wearing shoes, not bothering to hide his prosthetics.  Despite them, he was leaning heavily on a walking staff that seemed largely for show; at least, from what she could sense, he seemed to have no need for it.

There was a moment where he stood beside Hera, commenting idly about something, before he looked up, his piercing yellow gaze meeting Leia’s eyes.  That was when she leapt off the catwalk, igniting her weapon on the way down. She caught what might have been a sigh before her lightsaber came down, crackling loudly against the blade that suddenly appeared from his staff.

Leia pushed off, landing in a crouch a short distance away as the person discarded his cloak.  Hera looked between the two of them, mouth working, trying to get words out.

“General, get away from him!” Leia warned, before she was darting forward, her lightsaber lashing out.  For a moment, she almost swore she heard Hera let out a stressed noise, especially as she knocked the man off the  _ Ghost _ ’s ramp.

She may not have known who the man was, but she  _ knew  _ a Sith Lord when she sensed one, and this one definitely was not related to her!

Leia bolted off the ramp after him, striking out against him with all the strength she had in her.  It was satisfying almost to see him struggle against her blows, fighting to keep up with her onslaught.  His feet clanged loudly against the deck plates as he retreated, red blade humming loudly as it met blow after blow, before he finally managed to shove her off, putting some distance between them.  He was breathing hard as he gripped his staff, and she backed off just a moment, holding her attack to see what the zabrak would do. She was not all that surprised to see him hold up a hand, still playing the role of the feeble old man as he half bent over, gasping for air.

“A moment, please, young one,” he half begged, though there was a edge of mocking in his voice, clearly making fun of her.  “I believe the children these days say, ‘chill’?”

Leia grimaced, jerking forward, striking out at him again.  He caught her attack easily, letting out a tired sigh.

“So much aggression in you,” he leered, kicking at his staff, a part of it coming loose and falling away.  “You are definitely your father’s child.”

Leia immediately felt her anger peak at that, and she lashed out at him again, aiming low.  Another blade ignited from the opposite end of his lightsaber, catching the attack that would have certainly disabled one of his prosthetics had it hit.  He spared her surprised expression an amused grin, before he forced her on the defensive, his twin bladed lightsaber becoming a whirl of motion that was difficult to keep track of.  One particularly hard hit had her bowing to compensate, their blades sparking loudly as he leaned over her, a predatory grin full of sharp teeth flashing in front of her face.

“A lot of  _ Kenobi  _ in you as well,” he hissed, spitting her mentor’s name like it was a curse.  “But I see nothing uniquely yours.”

Leia let out a cry of frustration, summoning the Force to shove him off.  He stumbled back, lightsaber already whirling to counter her attack as she struck back as hard as she could, his parry causing her own attack to force her into a recovery position.  She saw the lightsaber coming for her before it actually did, and a spike of fear pierced her heart, waiting for the pain to hit. But it never came; the Sith deactivated that end of the lightsaber at the last possible moment, striking her shoulder with the hilt instead.  Shock and surprise had her spinning around, and a blast from the Force knocked her completely off her feet. She landed hard on her stomach, lightsaber flying from her hand and skittering along the deck, finally coming to a stop under an X-wing.

The man chuckled as he hovered above her, deactivating his lightsaber entirely and calling the discarded staff end back to his hand.

“I must give you credit, child,” he began, leaning heavily on the walking staff once it was assembled on his lightsaber again, “that was  _ invigorating.” _

“You…!”

Someone cleared their throat, and Leia looked up to see Hera approaching like there was not a dangerous Sith Lord standing right there.  In fact, she looked more annoyed at  _ her  _ than she did at the zabrak.

“Are you two done?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

The man let out another amused chuckle as Leia looked between them in utter confusion.

“I’m grateful you warned me she was Skywalker’s child, Hera,” he commented idly.  “I would not have been prepared for that otherwise.”

Hera let out a stressed sigh as Leia finally found her voice.

“General, what…?”

She gave her an apologetic look, before waving to the man.  “Leia, meet Maul, Ezra’s  _ other  _ master and the man that helped me deliver Jacen.”

Leia was fairly certain her jaw hit the deck.

“He  _ what?!”  _ she yelped. “Hera, he’s a  _ Sith Lord!” _

_ “Was  _ a Sith Lord, thank you,” Maul replied mildly.

Leia turned around so she was sitting, fixing him with an irate glare.  “You’re still evil,” she snapped. “I  _ felt  _ the death that clings to you as soon as you came out of hyperspace.”

Maul merely let out a sigh at that, his shoulders coming up briefly in a shrug.

“Spending a lifetime following the path of the Sith leaves its scars on you, young one,” he replied, before holding up a finger.  “Lesson one: dark is just dark; it is one’s actions that determine good and evil.”

Leia stared at him for a long moment, disbelief written all over her face.   _ Lesson?!  _ Did he think he was teaching—?  Suddenly Hera’s insistence about learning from someone, even if she thought it was crazy, came back to her, and she turned a wide-eyed stare to the general.

“No.”

“Leia…” Hera began.  “You promised.”

“You didn’t tell me he was a Sith Lord!”

“Emphasis on  _ was,”  _ Maul reminded, earning himself a glare from the both of them.  He favored them with an amused smile, before stepping off to the side, letting them sort it out.  Hera shook her head at his back, before she crouched down to her level.

“Leia, I know, all right?” she replied.  “If it wasn’t for Ezra, I would have spaced him years ago.  But Ezra believed in him and what he learned from him… and I know Kanan did too, even if he never admitted it.”

She wanted to protest, but mentions of the two Jedi lost just made whatever she could have said seemed meaningless.  Instead, Leia turned slightly, calling her lightsaber to her. Before it could reach her hand, however, Hera snatched it out of the air, pointing it at her for emphasis.

“You have two choices, Leia,” she began, an authority in her voice that reminded her she was not just her friend; she outranked her, by Leia’s own choice.  “You can learn from him, show the galaxy you are Anakin Skywalker’s daughter, that you’re a Jedi and one of the best star pilots ever. Or, you can go back to the main fleet, and have them put you somewhere else, but you’ll be doing it without this, because you won’t deserve it.”

Leia recoiled like she had been slapped, looking at her father’s lightsaber before her, her gaze drifting to Maul a moment later.  He turned slightly, yellow eyes studying her intently, as if trying to determine if she would say yes — or maybe even  _ challenging  _ her to.

Her eyes reluctantly fell to the lightsaber again, before she raised her hand to take it back.


	12. Geonosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for being patient with my slightly erratic update schedule. I have two chapters up for you today; both are rather short, but the one that follows is really long, and will take me awhile to get done.
> 
> I was recently asked on Tumblr by a user if they could translate this story into Russian. I just want to put it out there now that if anyone wants to translate any of my stories, that's totally okay; you don't even need to ask. My only request is that you link me when you have something up on AO3, so I can add a link on here. Also, feel free to contact me if you need me to clarify something; sadly, English is the only language I'm fluent in, but I can at least try to help talk things over.
> 
> Also, feel free to let me know if you or someone you know has done any fan art; I would love to see it! I'll be changing my profile on here so the ways to contact me are more easily accessible.
> 
> Once again, everyone, thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy.

Luke had left his cloak behind on the  _ Ark Angel,  _ but it did little to help the oppressive heat that greeted him as soon as he stepped out onto the planet’s surface.  Considering they were both desert worlds, it was amazing that Geonosis was not as bad as Tatooine, though it was a fairly close second.  Add to it the fact that  _ none  _ of them really seemed to want to be there, and Luke found himself struggling against the urge to be outright miserable.

He glanced up at Vader, trying and failing to hide his concern at how quiet the Dark Lord had been since Aphra said they needed to come here.  Of course, he knew his history; Geonosis was  _ the  _ place where the Clone Wars officially began, and the site of a massive battle involving the army of the Old Republic and the Jedi Knights.  There was no doubt in his mind both Vader and his father had been part of that campaign; he could only guess what being back here was like for him.

“At least this place should be pretty quiet, since the Empire was nice enough to sterilize it,” Aphra was saying, false cheerfulness in her voice as she knelt by the mummified husk of a dead geonosian.  “Wonder what kind of weapon they used…”

Silence answered her; Vader turned his attention away, Tabris did not look like he wanted to answer even if he knew, and Danres had been too afraid to make her presence known since Vader had come aboard.  Aphra did not seem bothered by the lack of response, dusting herself off as she stood up, before turning her attention to the droids.

“Okay, guys, you’re up,” she declared, patting Triple Zero on the shoulder encouragingly.  The protocol droid canted his head slightly, as if he were amused by something.

“If you think it best to send us alone, beneath the surface of an ominous planet, then certainly, Mistress Aphra!” he replied, starting forward with BT-1, the latter droid letting out a beep that sounded more like metal being put through a grinder.  Aphra put her hands on her hips as the two of them entered the cave before them, leading down into the underground hive structure used by the long dead geonosians.

“Was that sarcasm?” she asked.  “I think that was sarcasm.”

She paused, glancing up at Vader.  “You ever been to Geonosis, Lord Vader?”

Vader was silent, and Luke followed his gaze.  In the distance, he could just barely make out some kind of structure, but it was too decayed from age and the effects of the serialization to see clearly.  Still, despite the tight hold Vader had been keeping on his emotions since they arrived, Luke could sense something like  _ longing  _ coming from him…

The Dark Lord’s head suddenly snapped down as he mentally became an impenetrable fortress, and he stalked forward into the cave.

“Cease your probing,” he replied, though Luke got the distinct feeling that did not come out as sharply as he wanted it to.

“I’m a rogue archaeologist!” Aphra protested, running after him.  “It’s my job to question everything!”

Danres and Tanbris started after them, both various shades of exasperated, but Luke found himself hanging back, his gaze finding the structure again. He bit his lip, wrestling with himself, so caught up in his own thoughts that he ended up jumping when DV nudged against his leg.  The droid let out a soft boop, asking if they were going to join the others, and he hesitated again.

“...no, there’s something else I want to find out here,” he replied, turning away from the cave and starting for that structure.  “C’mon, Deevee!”

DV let out a soft boop, letting him know this was probably a bad idea as he followed him anyway.

~.oOOo.~

Vader hated this place.

He had Luke seek Aphra out because he needed an army to follow him without question as he sought out answers he knew may well lead to defying the Emperor himself.  Picking through the Imperial fleet for such individuals would take time he did not have at the moment, even if he did have control of the navy. No, this would require subtlety that only those currently unassigned to active duty — or, in the case of Aphra and the Rebel, unassigned to Imperial service entirely — would be capable of assisting him with.  He knew Aphra had the skill to bring the army he needed to life, her work with the pirate drone ship and the restored droidekas had proved that. Part of him had been hoping she already had a droid factory unit at her disposal. If only he could be so lucky.

The sound of flickering flames and the smell of burning organic matter met their small group as they rounded a corner, following the path Triple Zero and BT were mapping for them.  Danres let out a disgusted noise, covering her mouth as they came upon the source: battle droids that had the makings of geonosians bonded to their metal exteriors. Aphra boldly stepped forward, crouching down to inspect one of the bodies.

“Looks like my source was on the money,” she commented.  “There really is a living brood queen down here.”

“What are they?” Tanbris asked, looking like he was trying desperately not to gag at the smell.

“Oh, they’re droids,” Aphra assured him.  “A different design; looks like the queen made her own share of improvements to the factory already.”

“Why do they look like that, though?” Danres asked, sticking close to the lieutenant.  For the time being, he was not protesting her presence, though he did grimace when she brushed against him.

“Well…” Aphra began, standing up and starting further inside.  Vader watched her a moment, raising an eyebrow as she picked her way through the flames, still peering at the occasional robotic corpse.  “With all the others dead… the urge to continue the species must have been stronger than any other queen ever experienced. When biology failed, she turned to science, and…”

She trailed off as she made it to the end of the corridor, standing beside where Triple Zero and BT had also stopped.  Vader could sense it before he got close; the driving, almost  _ mindless  _ need to produce more and more and not stop until the species had been restored. It was coming from a young mind, and at most, the hive queen could only have been two years old. That did not seem to matter, Vader realized, as he went to join Aphra at the end of the hall. 

He had seen a geonosian queen once before, and that had been more than enough. This queen, however, was worse, with the lower portion of her body attached directly to the droid factory they were looking for. Her squashed face was already turned up to them, her fanned crest and hate-filled dark eyes illuminated by the faint glow of thousands of egg chambers, made of an unsettling harmony of metal and organic matter. 

It was an unnatural harmonization, one that reminded Vader of himself in ways he did not want to admit. 

“So, we’re about to steal a robot womb factory from a homicidal brood queen,” Aphra began, checking her blaster. “You still sure you want to do this?”

Vader answered by leaping off the walkway they stood on, catching a muttered, “I guess that’s a yes,” from Aphra as he fell. He landed hard on the metal plating below, putting him just under the queen’s hulking mass. Spindly arms and legs lashed out at him, easily evaded, much to the queen’s ire. 

“You!” she hissed at him in some approximation of Basic. “Hasn’t your Empire done enough to the geonosian people?!”

“No,” Vader replied coldly, his lightsaber coming to life in his hand. With one swipe, he removed her from the droid factory, a loud screech echoing through the chamber as she fell to the metal plate he was standing on. A wave of his hand, and he forced her off the factory entirely, slamming her against the egg chambers for good measure. She hissed at him as she pulled away, an arm stretched out toward him. 

“Stop them! They took our past; do not let them take our future!”

Something clanked in the darkness around the factory, just as the Rebel and Tanbris joined him on it. They had their blasters out, ready to fire as a myriad of red eyes lit up the dark, dozens upon dozens of droids emerging around them, each like the ones they encountered in the hallway. Vader stood there calmly, lightsaber still in hand, but making no move to use it. 

“Now.”

At his command, BT opened fire with all lasers and flamethrowers on his barrel-like body, severing the connections the factory had to the egg chambers while burning the ground around it. The two at his back opened fire then, working together to shoot down anything that dared to set foot on the metal they stood on. Aphra, meanwhile, was struggling with something in her hands, cursing at it, before she turned back… and then looked around in confusion. 

“Where’s Luke?!”

_ Luke…! _

“He didn’t follow us in,” Tanbris shouted above the flames and electronic screams. “I think he stayed with the ship!”

No, he was not with the ship, but he could not waste the time to try to find him. Aphra let out a curse above them, jumping down and landing in a crouch in front of Vader. She held out a small transponder, her concern obvious. 

“The thrusters aren’t working,” she explained. “Can you get it to the roof?”

With a flick of his finger, the device shot up, impacting against the roof of the hive and sticking there. Aphra spared him a smirk, a light in her eyes he could not place, before she ducked down, speaking into her wrist communicator. 

“Aphra to  _ Ark Angel,  _ barrage to location now!”

Vader could see the transponder above flashing, before the ceiling suddenly exploded. Debris rained down on them, and the other three huddled close to him as Vader extended the Force around where they were standing, an invisible shield deflecting the rocks harmlessly away. A massive industrial claw fell from the hole as light streamed in, illuminating the ruined hive as well as the destruction they caused. Aphra and Tanbris worked quickly, attaching the claw to the droid factory, and in the next moment they were airborne. He was dimly aware of the queen shouting after them, but she was beneath Vader’s notice now. 

The moment they were pulled above the caves, he flung his senses out, trying to find Luke.  It did not take long to find him; he had not gone far, heading in the direction of…

Vader bowed his head, wishing his vocoder would allow a deep sigh.

“Get this working as quickly as possible,” he ordered.  “I will call for transport shortly.”

He knew Aphra was going to bombard him questions if he stayed too long, so he immediately dropped from the droid factory, leaving his Nubian ship to haul them to their destination.

~.oOOo.~

Luke let out a grunt as he pushed away a large slab of rock that might have been part of the ceiling at some point, having to draw on assistance from the Force to do so.  It had steadily become easier to tap into that energy since he woke up on Mustafar, and he was not sure why it was answering his call so readily now. He suspected that strange echo he had been in with the Rebel pilot had something to do with it, though he had yet to ask Vader about it.

Moving another piece of rock allowed for DV to follow him into the room that was uncovered.  It was dark, save for a few pockets of illumination that filtered in from the damaged roof above.  Those pockets of light were enough for him to see that it had been some kind of communications center at one point, though many of the electronics were broken beyond repair, likely from when the planet was “sterilized”.  He was fairly sure that such sterilization had been done by planetary bombardment, likely involving  _ several  _ Star Destroyers, as punishment for the geonosians part in aiding and supplying Separatists.

But if that were the case there would be nothing left, not to mention that such a response was beyond extreme.  No others he knew of suffered this much…

DV letting out a boop drew his attention over to him, and he went over to where he was swiveling his head around by an active terminal, his emotive sensor flashing a bright, happy blue.

“And it has power?” he asked, incredulous.  DV answered positively, and Luke could not help but shake his head in amazement.  “Well, yeah, sure, plug in. Download what you can.”

DV let out a pleased boop, plugging his data jack in and getting to work, letting Luke know it would take him a bit.  He nodded, patting the droid on the head, before moving to look around. There was not much left in the room, so he moved to the corridor beyond, not all that surprised to see most of it caved in.  He managed to squeeze through enough to make it to the end, coming out to a balcony overlooking a large colosseum.

He could not immediately focus on the open space, however; he was more preoccupied with the sensations on the balcony itself.  He felt  _ cold;  _ a cold, empty bitterness that was just barely masked by something else, though Luke could not put a finger on what.  It was a moment before he could pull his attention away from it, gazing down at the colosseum below. Like the rest of the planet, there were a number of mummified bodies sticking up from the sandy ground, but he could sense more than just those terrifying last moments of geonosian life.  There were echoes of a battle still lingering in this place; many people had died here, and…

Luke frowned as he picked up something else, and he glanced around, looking for a way down.  He finally spotted some debris that helped him make his way to the very edge of the stands, allowing him to navigate down to a crack that he could use to climb the rest of the way to the ground.  Dust sprang up around his feet as he walked, following that strange feeling to the adjacent side of the colosseum, coming to a broken down gate just barely covering a tunnel. It was not hard to imagine prisoners being escorted through there, and he expected to feel fear in that place, but that other sensation drowned it out completely.

It took a moment of walking down the tunnel before he came to the point where that sensation was strongest, to the point where he could actually  _ tell  _ what it was.

Love.

_ “Skywalker.” _

Luke near jumped out of his skin as Vader’s breathing filled the tunnel, turning to see the Dark Lord stalking toward him from the opposite direction.  He found himself shrinking back in spite of himself, having a feeling Vader was  _ mad,  _ despite the fact he still could not sense through the barrier he had on his emotions.  Through some sheer force of will, he managed to stay where he was standing, though he could not deny his fear.

“Forgive me, my lord, I—”

He cut himself off as Vader came to a stop beside him, standing right on that spot where the feeling of love was strongest, staring straight ahead.  Luke did not dare to breathe, feeling that if he did, he would be interrupting something deeply personal. It was a long moment before Vader finally turned to him, and at last, Luke could get a sense of what he was feeling again: a deep feeling of nostalgia and longing that was almost painful to sense.

“Your parents came through here,” he finally said, his voice soft.  “They were imprisoned here, before the battle that took place. It was here they declared their love for each other.  They were married not long after, on Naboo.”

Luke stared in wonder, mouth falling open slightly in surprise.  He was not expected that, but it explained a fair few things in regards to the Dark Lord’s behavior.

“You cared for them too, didn’t you?” he asked.  Vader bowed his head at that, looking like he could sink under the weight of all the memories tied to this place.

“Yes…” he answered.  “More than anything.”

A moment passed, before Vader turned to him again, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“You, child, need to stop being so reckless,” he said, raising a warning finger when Luke opened his mouth to protest.  “I’m not referring to just now, either. Your actions over the Death Star were hardly necessary. I took no pleasure in having to  _ maim  _ you to save your life.”

Luke sank at that, his gaze turning down to his prosthetic, securely covered with a compression gauntlet.  Having that was preferable to suffocating from lack of oxygen; he wanted to assure him that it did not bother him, but…

“I am not losing you as well.”

The soft confession, mixed with a hint of fear, had whatever protests and assurances he wanted to make die in his throat.  Luke let out a soft breath, lowering his head in apology.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he replied softly, and he felt himself pulled close, his arms coming up immediately to return his tight embrace.

~.oOOo.~

“So… what’s your theory?”

Tabris looked up from the controls of the  _ Ark Angel,  _ having been preoccupied with setting their next course.  Himself and the Rebel woman had been chased out of the droid workshop, leaving Aphra to work, with Skywalker assisting and Vader overseeing.  That was, frankly, fine by him; after meeting the murder droids that crazy archaeologist had reactivated, he preferred to stay as far from her and her work as he could possibly place himself.  He could have done without the  _ Rebel  _ keeping him company, however.

“About what?” he replied tersely.

“You know,” she said, waving back toward the droid workshop.  “Luke, Vader; how  _ that  _ even happened?”

Tanbris felt the color drain out of his face.  He was of a mind  _ not  _ to think about it, personally; if Vader was speaking and treating Skywalker like any other soldier (or at least, trying to), then he had no business thinking otherwise.

“You Rebels really do have a death wish…” he muttered in answer, drawing a huff out of the Rebel.

“What?  You think he’s going to kill us for figuring it out?” she asked.  “It’s not like he’s doing a very good job of  _ hiding  _ it.”

Tanbris let out a stressed noise, rubbing at his temples.  He could not deny her, however, and that was a problem; Lord Vader was not one for subtlety, and he could not deny the similarities Skywalker shared with him either.  Never mind what they witnessed on Mustafar; there were just certain behaviors that people  _ inherited  _ from their parents, consciously or otherwise.

_ “If  _ I must have a theory…” Tanbris began.  “Lord Vader isn’t the type to give any emotion away freely.  Even his anger comes to those that called for it. Whomever Skywalker’s mother was… she was loved, and he was wanted.”

The Rebel fell quiet at that, mulling it over, before she let out a soft sigh.

“Yeah, I thought that too,” she admitted.  “Why hide it, though? Why have him as a pilot?  If he’s next in the succession line after Vader, shouldn’t he — I dunno — be well protected?”

Tanbris frowned at that; it was a good point, and the only thing he could think of was Lord Vader wanting his son to become a man outside of the cage that the Imperial Palace could be.  He almost voiced as much when an obnoxiously loud noise came from behind them, and Aphra made her way into the cockpit, pulling off her gloves.

“You know, those two are  _ intense  _ when they’re in the same room together,” she said, leaning against the pilot’s seat.  She paused, glancing back the way she came, before hunching close to them both, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper.  “Hey, is it just me, or are those two related?”

Tanbris knew the Rebel was fixing him with an, “I told you so,” look as he let out an exasperated sigh.

~.oOOo.~

Luke let out a tired sigh as he tucked himself into a bunk on Vader’s Nubian ship, exhausted after the long couple of days he had been going through without sleep.  Vader had insisted he have some time to rest and recharge away from the loud clanging of the droid factory, and he was not about to argue with him. Plus, something about the Dark Lord’s ship made him feel… safe, at home; kind of the same way being on Mustafar did.

He was about to lay down when DV rolled toward him, his low, urgent booping shaking away thoughts of sleep.

“Wait, what?  Slow down.”

DV came to a stop before him, repeating what he said, before his projector came to life.  Luke could only stare, eyes wide, as a design concept of the Death Star floated between them.

“You… you found this on that computer?” he managed to get out.  DV booped a positive note, before saying there was more. His projector switched then to a garbled, clearly damaged holo call.  The sound was a mess and completely unintelligible, but the person cloaked before him… Luke had only seen a handful of images of the Emperor during Empire Day celebrations, but he was still a distinctive presence.

“And you’re sure that computer hasn’t been accessed in twenty years?” he asked, his voice hushed.  Of course, DV said no, and added that someone had tried to erase the information, but his higher level data protocols had been able to retrieve it easily.  The droid’s smugness would have made him smile any other time, but Luke sunk back on the bunk, a worried look on his face.

The Death Star design concepts, and an old, broken call from the Emperor on a Separatists’ computer.  What could that even mean…?


	13. Practice

Leia had never felt more exhausted in her life.

An entire mess hall on the battle cruiser had been converted for their use, with large signs warning unnecessary personnel to steer clear of the area.  Not that it was needed; Maul’s presence, especially when he was entrenched in the Force, was like a festering wound walking around in the galaxy. Even the least Force sensitive people tended to steer away from him, and Leia could not fault them for it.  She, personally, had already had more than her fair share of it in the last few days. It was particularly bad when they were fighting, which a lot of his training so far seemed to consist of. He was determined to “beat the Kenobi” out of her, as he so eloquently put it the last time she had fallen into the defensive form she learned from him, only for Maul to knock her over twice as hard as he usually did.

“I’m certain it doesn’t help you’re using a lightsaber not made for your hands,” Maul commented idly, watching her flinch after the latest round of meeting the floor.  “It would be to your benefit to build your own as soon as possible.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Leia asked, letting out a groan as she climbed back to her feet.  “The Empire seized any and all kyber crystal deposits in the galaxy.”

And she was not willing to take apart her father’s lightsaber, even though… she shook the thought away as Maul raised a curious eyebrow, but did not comment.

“Crystals aren’t so  _ limited,  _ child,” he said instead, absently tapping the hilt of his lightsaber against his shoulder.  “Deposits can be found anywhere the Force gathers; there is no rhyme or reason to it, and the Emperor’s Inquisitors are long gone.  Such deposits should be easy to locate without  _ them  _ around.”

He paused, before he shrugged.  “You could always cannibalize the lightsaber of dead Jedi as well.  There should be plenty of old ones to be found.”

Leia pursed her lips at that.  “And how many of them did you kill?”

Maul flashed an unkind smile that did not quite reach his eyes.  “Do not ask questions you do not want to know the answers to.”

Leia let out a faint noise, turning away from him to collect her water bottle.  She paused as she was about to take a drink, a question she  _ did  _ want to know the answer to bubbling in the back of her mind, quickly getting the better of her.

“Why do you hate Master Kenobi so much?”

Maul let out a hiss, and Leia turned to see him clutching the hilt of his lightsaber tight.

_ “He  _ is responsible for  _ this,”  _ he growled, knocking a fist against his hip, a clang resonating out from the hit.  “He was quite a  _ vicious  _ fighter in his youth.”

Leia felt her blood run cold.  If Kenobi did that to Maul, a Sith Lord with no connection to him other than being on the wrong side of the Force, then… what would he have done to her father when he fell…?

Was Vader even in existence because of…?

She placed a hand to her forehead, realizing more and more that she did not even  _ know  _ the man that had been her teacher.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra hummed faintly to herself, putting the last adjustments down on their purloined droid factory.  With that done, big Vader was going to have the loyal, untraceable army he wanted, and… well, her time was probably up.  After all, he had no reason to keep her around now, especially since between him and his kid, they could make any changes they wanted to her work if they needed to.

It did not help her nerves to have him hovering behind her as she waited for the factory to spit out the finished product.

“So, how much longer are you going to give me?” she asked, breaking the silence between them.  “Will I get a say in how I go? ‘Cause if I do, I want a lightsaber through the neck. Nice and quick.”

He still did not answer, though she heard him shift against the bulkhead wall.

“If I don’t, just space me.  Right out the airlock. Always did have nightmares about that.”

She finally turned around to face Vader, watching him a moment as he stood there, arms folded over his chest, staring back at her intently.

“Just, a couple things?” she began.  “The kid can keep Triple Zero. I dunno, that crazy droid seemed to like him as much as a torture droid can like an organic.”

She paused, noting his continued lack of reaction.

“Also… tell Luke the truth already.”

_ That  _ got a response, and the Dark Lord pushed himself off the wall, towering over her.  Her end was  _ definitely  _ coming quick, and Aphra took a deep breath before plowing on:

“It’s refreshing to see a dad give a damn about his kid, don’t get me wrong, but you’re  _ not  _ subtle, if you hadn’t noticed.  Pretty sure the only reason  _ he  _ doesn’t already know is that he’s pretty dense when it comes to certain thi—”

She cut herself off as Vader reached up, expecting both of her preferences to be vetoed, and he was just going to strangle the life out of her with his bare hands.  Instead of closing around her neck, he reached past her, pulling the completion lever on the factory just as it lit up. A droid spat out a moment later, unfolding itself: dull brown and nondescript, but clearly functional and working with the upgrades she made.  He allowed his hand to drop, a pleased tilt to that creepy mask of his, before he focused his gaze on her.

“Continue to work like this for me, and you needn’t worry,” he finally answered.  “As for Luke… the less he suspects, the better.”

Vader turned then, that cape of his sweeping dramatically around his feet.

“‘Anakin Skywalker’ was a hero,” he continued.  “I am far from such a thing.”

Aphra stared at his back, a feeling she did not quite like settling in her chest.  She paused, trying to think of something to say, only to come up empty on anything really meaningful.  For a moment, she just let out a sigh, turning her attention back to the factory.

“...maybe so, but you’re  _ his  _ hero.”

Vader glanced back at her, but any comment he had was cut off as the door to the workshop opened.  Triple Zero entered, seeming about as happy as a droid could physically express.

“Masters, we have a guest,” he announced.  “One Krrsantan, Black, with an important delivery for you, Master Vader.”

Vader swept out of the workshop.  Curious, even though she had no reason to be, Aphra followed after him, setting the droid factory to automatic.  Triple Zero followed right behind her, seeming far too giddy for a droid.

They made their way over from the  _ Ark Angel  _ to Vader’s classy Nubian — seriously, how did a guy like him  _ have  _ a ship like this?  Of course she recognized Black Krrsantan as soon as she saw him.  A big, black furred wookiee was hard to miss. The creepy guy with the eye prosthetics and skin grafts was new, but considering the choke hold Krrsantan had on him, it was pretty easy to tell he was the delivery.  The wookiee let out a low growl, painting a picture that had Aphra scrunching her face up in disgust.

“You detected my agent before you arrived at your base,” Vader announced.  “You were also smuggling illegal alien organs. Most interesting.”

“Also icky,” Aphra added, earning herself a stare from that creepy mask.  Vader’s attention was back on the man in the next moment, as well as a finger in his face.

“Now, we will extract the location of your headquarters, as well as what my master wishes of you.”

The man’s face twisted into a sneer, and Aphra had to give him credit for being crazy enough to look at  _ Darth Vader  _ like that.

“Torture me all you like,” he hissed.  “I won’t even give you my name.”

Vader leaned back, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“If  _ I  _ wanted information from you, you would give it to me,” he declared, his voice colder than the void outside the ship.  “I do not have the time; fortunately, I have an expert.”

He waved Triple Zero forward, and Aphra could not help but raise an eyebrow.   _ Ah,  _ that’s why the droid had seemed so happy.  He probably saw the opportunity to torture coming from a mile away.  Yeah… she definitely did not want to witness this. She hurried after Vader as he turned to leave, happily closing the door behind her.

~.oOOo.~

“Stop denying your emotions, child; you’re only crippling yourself.”

Maul let out a tired sigh as Leia continued to ignore his advice, actively trying to shove away the complicated mess of emotions that was plaguing her.  She sat cross legged before him, attempting to meditate, but the goal of the exercise was to sort through her emotions and tame them, not  _ discard  _ them.   _ Jedi;  _ this was why his former master was able to wipe them out so easily.

He paced around her as she continued to ignore him, his staff snapping out and striking her on the back.  She let out a yelp, eyes flying open as she pitched forward, slapping a hand on the floor to brace herself.  One of those fiery glares of hers was aimed at him in the next moment, drawing yet another sigh out of him.

“You don’t  _ listen,”  _ he said.  “It’s amazing you even know enough of the Force to pass for a Jedi to  _ normal  _ people.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Oh don’t; you are no Jedi,” he replied.  “Jedi were self-sacrificing fools that discarded any emotion they were capable of, leaving them blind to the feelings of other sentients.  The fact that you exist is proof such a way of thinking was always doomed to fail.”

Leia stared at him, her emotions suddenly becoming closely guarded.

“What do you mean?”

He tilted his head at her question; curious how no one had ever told her…

“Love, compassion, attachment; the old Jedi would tell you those are pathways to the Dark Side,” Maul explained.  “Had Anakin Skywalker been a good little Jedi, you would have never been born.”

Leia continued to stare at him for a long moment, shock and numbness written all over her face.  She probably did not even realize when she  _ broke,  _ though Maul could feel it clearly, even before the tears started to fall from her eyes.  He wanted to feel satisfied they were finally getting somewhere, though he would have preferred to do so without damaging her in the process.

“That…” she began, her voice sounding choked.  “That is why my father fell? Because he loved my mother?”

_ Fell? _

It was Maul’s turn to stare at her, his mind working, piecing together what he remembered of Anakin Skywalker with more recent events.  He leaned away after a moment, a cold realization settling over him.

“Darth Vader?” he asked softly.

She nodded, finally reaching up and wiping the tears away from her face.  Now he understood why Hera called him here; he was  _ very  _ well aware of what his former master could do to others he pulled under his thrall, something that the young woman would have no experience with.  Seeing that man rule the galaxy was one thing, seeing what he was capable of with the Force was something else entirely.

He let out a faint grunt as he bent down, folding himself as he came to sit before her.

“‘Love’ itself is hardly a catalyst for the dark,” he assured her.  “Neither is attachment nor compassion. However, they are conduits to other emotions: anger, possessiveness, greed.  Add to that a master manipulator like Sidious, and the reasons for your father’s fall becomes clear.”

Leia took a deep breath, fighting against the urge to sniffle as she slowly calmed down, finally listening to him.

“Sidious?” she asked after a moment.

“You call him ‘Emperor’,” Maul explained.  “Sidious’ manipulation of the galaxy goes far beyond what the normal sentients can see.”

For a moment, her expression was hard to read, but Maul could sense that tangled mess of emotion begin to smooth out, slowly becoming a calm lake in the Force.  He knew that would not last, however; even now he could sense the tide was pulling back, a storm threatening on the horizon. It made him grateful that he was here; had she been allowed to persist with only the training she had, her downfall would have created a tremor in the Force that could have shaken the galaxy.  She was  _ very  _ ill suited for the old ways, not with all that passion bottled up in her — it was a very clear weakness of hers.

“Tell me more,” she insisted softly.  “I need to know what I’m up against.”

Maul could not help the smile that came to his face.  He knew well his own weakness; attachment was a thing he could never shake.  He had clung to his old master, the man that raised him and taught him everything he knew.  He had loved his blood brother enough that his death nearly broke him. The crew of the  _ Ghost  _ had wormed their way into his damaged heart when he was near mad with his need for vengeance.

Now it seemed Leia Organa was finding her own place with him.

~.oOOo.~

“Concentrate, Luke.”

Luke let out a slow breath at Vader’s words, doing his best to listen.  It had been ages since he had received a lesson like this, and since everyone on board the  _ Ark Angel  _ had seen him use the Force at least once, his mentor had agreed to it easily.  The task before him felt far too daunting, however; at his request, Aphra had loaded up a bin with as many spare parts she could find.  It made the container ridiculously heavy, to the point where he was worried it would fall right through the ship. So far, his attempts to lift it had been futile, and it did not help that he had four sets of eyes and two photoreceptors watching him.

“Remember, Luke, your focus determines your reality,” Vader continued.  “See the shape of the object in your mind.”

Luke’s face scrunched up with effort, trying again.  He could picture the container easily enough, but he also knew the  _ weight  _ that came with it.

“It’s too heavy,” he protested, gasping for breath from the effort.

“The weight doesn’t matter,” Vader replied, sounding like he was near the edge of his patience, though Luke could tell his frustration was aimed more at himself than him.  It just made him all the more determined to  _ do  _ this, not wanting his mentor to blame himself for his own shortcomings.

Luke took a deep breath, divorcing the feeling of eyes watching him from his mind and only focusing on the container.  He reached out with invisible hands, feeling about it, sensing its size and shape, and forcing himself to ignore how heavy it was.  After a moment, he heard a scraping sound as he pictured himself grasping onto it with those invisible hands, lifting it up in the air…

“Sweet stars…” he heard Tanbris utter, and Luke dared to open his eyes, seeing the container up in the air.  An elated grin spread over his face, even though it caused him to break focus a moment. He caught the container before it could fall, letting it rotate in place a moment, before gently setting it back on the floor.

“Good,” Vader said, his approval radiating in the Force.  Luke let out a breath he did not realize he was holding as DV booped happily, nudging against his arm.

“So… I don’t get it,” Danres spoke up, having gotten bolder when it came to making her presence known in front of Vader since Geonosis.  “I mean, it’s great that he can lift something that heavy, but how does lifting heavy stuff lead to all that stuff the Jedi did during the Clone Wars?”

Vader focused his gaze on her, and Luke had to smile as she fought against the urge to hide behind Tanbris.

“Gotta admit, I’m curious too,” Aphra said, her legs swinging back and forth as she leaned forward on her workbench perch.  “How does it work? I’ve heard old Jedi have been called wizards that could do the impossible, but this seems a far cry from those stories.”

A faint noise escaped from Vader’s vocoder, and Luke easily picked up on his resigned exasperation.  Judging from what little training he had so far, he suspected his mentor was not the best at  _ explaining,  _ and would much rather teach by example.  Likely trying to explain the Force to those that could not use it did not help, so he looked up to him, hoping his attention would help, though it was still a moment before he began to explain.

“The Force encompasses all life.  There are few with the ability to tap into the field of energy it creates, and it is the will of the Force for an individual to be born with that ability.”

“So it has a consciousness of its own, my lord?” Tanbris asked, his own curiosity lured out into the open.

Vader nodded.  “The Force has its own desires, but it will also listen to those willing to reach out to it.  By understanding how to reach for it, one can tap into greater abilities.”

Luke could not help but feel a little apprehensive at that.  Was that why the Force seemed to answer him to readily? Because he was getting better at reaching out for it?  The door to the workshop opened before he could ask, admitting Triple Zero. Her looked between everyone, a pleased cant to his head.

“Ah, excellent, you’re all here,” he began.  “I have good news and bad news.”

He turned his focus to Vader.  “The good news is our dear —  _ ahem  _ — Doctor Cylo-Four has divulged the location of his base of operations, along with mapping data and security deployment, among other such necessary information.”

“Good,” Vader replied.  “Dispose of him.”

Triple Zero paused, looking curious.  The red of his photoreceptors seemed to gleam in joy, and Luke found himself catching Aphra’s eye, sharing a concerned look.

“Ah, then I have doubly good news,” the droid continued.  “He’s already dead.”

Tanbris shifted uncomfortably, muttering under his breath.  If Triple Zero noticed, he did not comment on it, instead keeping his focus on Vader.

“I assume you would like to leave right away, master?” he asked.  “I imagine you would very much like to meet your rivals.”

Vader stared at the droid, and while outwardly he did not so much as twitch, the temperature in the room noticeably dropped.

“Explain.”

“Our departed doctor has been responsible for the engineering and training of your replacement, at the Emperor’s command.”

Luke’s mouth fell open in shock, and he was not the only one.  Still, their surprise was nothing compared to the cold rage that now permeated the room, to the point that Aphra was hugging her arms to her chest.

“Take us there,  _ immediately.” _


	14. Rebellion

Vader was well aware of the fact that his presence was difficult to be around for most people.  Even before he had been forced into his armor, his height and strength in the Force made it hard for others unused to him to be near him for very long.  Add to that the fact that his anger had yet to abate since hearing his  _ master  _ had been working on a replacement for him, and it was a miracle anyone in their little group had wanted to stay near him.

Though it was Luke in the pilot’s seat of his ship as Vader stood, a towering wall of black rage, with him in the cockpit; perhaps it was not all that surprising.

“My lord…” he began softly, wonder and disgust mixing together in his voice.

It was not that hard to see  _ why;  _ through the viewport before them “swam” several whale-like creatures, traversing the Crushank Nebulae as easily as water.  Each one of them were an amalgamation of living creature and machine, with gigantic towers that made it seem like they were carrying cities on their backs.  It was an impressive display, if one was fond of abominations. Vader was not so impressed.

“They’re in pain…” Luke murmured, and he looked down to see a distant look in his son’s eyes as he unconsciously tapped into the Force.  “So much pain, but… they can’t feel it. They can’t feel anything. They can’t think on their own…”

Luke trailed off as he sunk into the pilot’s seat, his horror slowly turning into anger, and then fierce determination.  Vader observed his emotions carefully, privately grateful he had allowed his son to find his own path in the Force. The boy was such a pillar of empathy for other beings that forcing him to turn to the Dark Side would have either broken him, or broken half the galaxy.

He reached over to him after a moment, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.  Luke looked up, those blue eyes of his hard with determination.

“My lord, please allow me to accompany you inside,” he requested, a cold edge to his voice.  “I can’t just sit here and do nothing about this.”

Vader hesitated at that, frowning.  The Force had been rife with warnings since the moment they left, and he did not want his son in the middle of it.  But… he knew what  _ he  _ would do if someone told him no: go inside anyway.  The boy was in many ways  _ far  _ too like him.

Then again, his mother would have done the exact same thing.

“Very well,” he rumbled.  “You can lead the second platoon of droids.”

At least if he was leading droids, he would have something there to protect him. Still, Vader could only hope he was not making a mistake.

~.oOOo.~

So far, this illegal boarding mission on an illegal space whale-turned-ship was going a lot better than Aphra would have thought.  She shifted in her seat, curling up as she monitored the battle droids waiting to enter the docking control room with Luke, while Danres monitored the coms.  They both had a bird’s eye view of the crew that  _ had  _ been in docking control get spaced thanks to Vader’s entrance through the vents.  A shudder went through her as the bodies just floated away, faces locked in masks of horror.

“And that is why you wear magnetic clamps,” she muttered.  Tanbris glanced back at her from the pilot’s seat, raising an eyebrow at her reaction, before turning back to his own work.

“Vents are sealed; dispatching the droids,” he announced.  Aphra’s console lit up as the droids started moving, and she pushed herself up a little to see them leave the ship with Luke in the lead.  They disappeared inside, and Aphra could not help but feel a little twitchy, wishing she was going in too, never mind how creepy this place was.

“Getting information in from Beetee,” Danres announced as her own display started flying with data.  “With this and what Triple Zero extracted from Cylo, we’ve got a good visual on the entire base.”

Aphra shifted in her seat again, keeping one eye on her station and the other on Danres.  The other woman frowned at the information in front of her, pulling up a map and scrolling through it.

“Going by this, it looks like the main areas of resistance would be the barracks, and this place called ‘the dojo’,” she finally continued, her frown deepening as she said that.  Aphra plopped back into her seat properly, fingers working overtime as she uploaded the mapping diagram to the battle droids.

“I’ll take the dojo,” Luke’s voice came over the com once the data was sent.

“Remain focused, Luke,” Vader warned, sounding more like a parent than he likely intended.

“Yes, my lord.”

Aphra caught Danres’ eye, mouthing, “Yes dad,” at her.  The other woman stifled a laugh as Tanbris rolled his eyes.

~.oOOo.~

If it were not for the clomp of droid footsteps, the halls of Cylo’s base of operations would have been unnervingly quiet.  Luke fought against the urge to reach out with his senses, trying to get a feel for what was ahead, but there had been a quiet voice in the back of his head, whispering to him not to use the Force, since he had left Lord Vader’s ship.  His disquiet over this place had him more than willing to listen, even if he did not understand  _ why. _

The platoon came out into an open room, empty, save for two people in robes standing in the center.  The man turned first, frowning up at Luke, his eyes looking like they were piercing through him, while the woman let out a curious noise, tilting her head.

“Just marching in here like this?” she asked.  “We didn’t do that bad on the last test, did we?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the man replied, raising his hand.  Luke was blasted off his feet the next moment, landing roughly in a heap on the ground.  The woman leapt past him, a green lightsaber coming to life in her hands as she began cutting down the droids.  Blaster fire went off in an attempt to stop her, but Luke did not have the chance to focus on it; the man was approaching, yellow lightsaber aimed at his heart.

_ Don’t use the Force.  Do  _ not  _ use the Force! _

Luke scrambled away as the blade came down, missing him by centimeters.  He rolled to his feet, pulling his borrowed lightsaber from its hiding place the conventional way, and had it up as the man took another swing at him, the blades clashing loudly.  For a moment, the man looked surprised, before a grin spread across his face and a predatory gleam came to his eyes.

“So, are you the new model?” he hissed.  “Do you think you can  _ replace  _ us?”

The man shoved at him, sending him stumbling back.  Luke caught himself, just in time to realize the blaster fire had stopped, and it was the only warning he had before the woman leapt at him.  He just barely managed to intercept her attack, immediately forced on the defensive as first her, then the man assaulted him. If he actively used the Force, he did not think this would be an issue.  Without it…

_ Do  _ not  _ use the Force! _

Luke felt himself lifted off his feet again, and he landed hard on the stairs leading into the room, next to a severed droid head.  He struggled to get back up, some sort of  _ presence  _ pressing down on him, making it hard to think or even  _ breathe.   _ The man hovered over him, that predatory gleam still in his eyes as he raised his lightsaber.  Just before he could stab down at him, a black shadow passed over Luke, followed by a flash of red as Darth Vader struck out at the man, forcing him to back off.

“This isn’t a test,” the woman said as the man stumbled back, stopping at her side.  “That’s  _ Vader.” _

The man’s grin seemed almost insane as he took in Vader standing protectively over Luke, and he held his hand out, like he was going to try throwing the Dark Lord around like he had been doing to him.  Instead, the door snapped closed behind them, and the two of them glanced back.

“That was… not the Force; merely trickery,” the Dark Lord noted.  “The Force is  _ weak  _ in you.”

Luke felt his face grow hot at that realization, even more certain that if he was not holding himself back, he would have easily bested them both.  So why was the Force warning him against using it? Continuing to warn him? Vader must have felt it as well, considering the brief glance back at him, quiet encouragement to listen to his instincts passing between the two of them.  The Dark Lord reached down for him, giving him a hand up as the man charged forward. Luke found himself quickly backing away as lightsabers clashed, getting his own blade up just as the woman came after him.

“The Force?” the man sneered.  “The Force is just as outdated as you!”

The temperature in the room dropped as Vader’s anger peaked, and he shoved the man away hard.  He pursued him, even as repulsorlifts on the man’s feet activated, allowing him the same impressive leaps the woman had been demonstrating before.  It would have made Luke angry at himself even more for not realizing their tricks sooner if he was not preoccupied with her. She lashed out at him, her lightsaber a blur of motion as she forced him on the defensive again.

“My brother speaks crudely,” she said, striking out against him hard enough to nearly knock his weapon out of his hands.  “I’m an admirer of Lord Vader’s work. You don’t seem to be a very successful part of it, though.”

Luke grit his teeth, and was about to ignore the warnings continuing to blare in his head…

“Morit! Aiolin! Cease immediately!”

The two immediately backed off, switching off their lightsabers, though the glare that the man was giving Vader was a clear sign he had wanted to keep going.  He very well might have if another individual had not entered the room, one with skin grafts all over his body, along with a cybernetic implant over one eye.

“Cylo-Four, you are… alive,” Vader murmured, the disbelief in his voice easy to hear.

“Oh no,” the man replied.  “Cylo-Four is dead. When his death was detected, I activated.  You may call me Cylo-Five.”

Luke came up behind Vader, keeping close by his shoulder.  An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, along with a deep, unsettling cold that seemed to pierce through his bones.  Something… no some _ one _ was here, someone that had a darker presence in the Force than any of the creepy items Vader kept in his palace.  But where…?

“You see,” Cylo was continuing, “I’ve created a personality map small enough to be simulated effectively from unit to unit.  Add to it memory and data banks, and I have an immortal system.”

Cylo moved to turn his back to Vader, when he paused, favoring him with an amused smile.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t program myself to hold a grudge.”

Vader’s annoyance radiated off of him in waves, not that Luke could blame him.

“I understand you were training apprentices here,” Vader rumbled, his irritation just barely kept in check.  “But there is nothing of the Force in them. There is nothing of the Force  _ anywhere  _ here.”

Nothing anywhere?  Luke glanced up at Vader; could he not  _ sense  _ that?  He opened his mouth to warn him, to let him know that  _ something was here,  _ but Cylo cut him off before he could get a word out, an amused laugh escaping from him.

“No, not apprentices.   _ Replacements,”  _ he sneered at him.  “This is what you fail to understand, Vader; what the Emperor  _ does  _ understand.  The universe is old, the Force is becoming obsolete.”

The door behind them suddenly opened, and the both of them turned as…  _ creatures  _ enter the room.  The least altered of them was a human woman that at first glance seemed rather androgynous, her eyes replaced with goggle-like cybernetics.  She was surrounded by small remote droids, and Luke could feel that her consciousness was tied to each and every one of them, like parts of her very soul had been cut up and shoved into them.  A trandoshan slithered into the room just before her, moving more like his reptilian ancestors than the species normally did. Various tubes littered the creature’s body, connected to multiple systems grafted into its skin, the purpose of which Luke could not even begin to fathom.

More terrifying than the two of them, however, was the Mon Calamari that entered with them.  Or at least, what was  _ left  _ of the fish-like creature; the entirety of the man’s body had been replaced with a towering droid frame, clearly built for extreme combat.  The creature sneered down at Luke as he passed by, and he found himself pressing up against Vader as the three of them moved to stand next to the man and woman from before.  The Dark Lord’s presence surrounded him immediately, almost instinctively wrapping him in a protective blanket.

“These,” Cylo began, his arms spreading wide to encompass his creations, “are the Force’s replacements.”

“This is blasphemous,” Vader hissed, and Luke could not agree more.  Even with him actively trying not to use the Force, he could sense nothing of it around Cylo’s creations, just as his mentor said.  It was as if the Force itself did not want to be near any of them. Cylo himself, however, seemed unperturbed by Vader’s declaration, merely smiling.

“This has nothing to do with the Force, Vader,” he replied.  “Much like you do not.”

Vader raised his still activated lightsaber in warning, but Cylo ignored it.

“I see you, more machine than man, and I see the harmonization of the old world and my own.  In many ways, my creations are your children.”

A bolt of rage shot through the room, the protective feeling that surrounded Luke layering over him, almost becoming suffocating.  He stepped away as Vader lifted his blade, fulling intending to relieve Cylo of his head, but Luke could not focus on what was about to happen.  That  _ cold  _ was back, like icy fingers worming their way into his skin, into his  _ mind,  _ digging themselves into him in ways that were nothing short of  _ violating.   _ He stepped back further, coming up short as  _ something  _ rested a hand on his shoulder, the fingers bony, but the grip strong and possessive in a way that drew a strangled gasp out of him.

Vader paused at the sound, that rage of his becoming more prominent as he turned toward him.  The Force seemed to scream around Luke, like it was begging him to move, to  _ get away,  _ but that hand kept him locked in place.  All he could do was look back, his eyes following the length of the man’s arm to an aged face, heavily worn and wrinkled, shrouded by the hood of his black robe.  Piercing yellow eyes stood out from the man’s face, and a small part of him was grateful the glare he was giving the Dark Lord was not focused on him.

The Emperor had a presence to him in images, but Luke never imagined how  _ terrifying _ that presence was in person.

“Enough, Lord Vader,” the Emperor began, sounding like a tired parent reprimanding a child.  “Forgive him, Cylo; Lord Vader is rather sensitive when it comes to the topic of children.”

The grip on his shoulder tightened, forcing Luke to struggle against a wince.  Vader’s gaze never left him, and he seemed rigid and tense, as if he were ready to spring toward Luke in an effort to get him away.  He really wished he would; the oppressive  _ cold  _ the Emperor emanated felt like it was going to freeze him to death.

“Excellency,” Cylo began, inclining his head in respect.  “When my predecessor failed to return, I knew this confrontation was coming, though it came sooner than I would have liked.”

He spread his arms wide again, encompassing the entire dojo.

“I am prepared to show you that the role of ‘apprentice’ need only be ceremonial,” he declared.  “That all you require is a strong fist, and I will prove my creations have a tighter grip than Lord Vader.”

The Emperor let out an amused noise, absently motioning with his cane, as if he were dismissively waving him off.

“Enough grandstanding, Cylo,” he replied, “you have my presence.  Show me what your creations are capable of.”

The grip on his shoulder suddenly relaxed, and that icy cold pulled back, settling on the fringes of his mind.  Luke dared to look back again, but the Emperor’s gaze on him was nowhere near as severe as before, those yellow eyes almost kindly.  Somehow the look was even more terrifying than his glare.

“Come, young one,” he entreated softly, “this is no place for us.”

Luke hesitated, turning his wide-eyed fear to Lord Vader, as if hoping he would be able to pull him away.  But he knew the Dark Lord would not be able to, just as he knew he could not say no.

“...yes, Excellency,” he replied softly, amazed he managed to keep his voice steady.

The Emperor kept his hand on his shoulder, allowing Luke to walk before him as he led him out of the dojo and down an adjoining hall, which would eventually come to an observation deck if he remembered right.  Cylo came up behind them after a moment, though he kept a respectful distance from the two of them. Luke almost wished he would not; as unnerving as Cylo was, it was  _ nothing  _ compared to the man still holding onto him.

“Young… Skywalker, isn’t it?” the Emperor began, his tone sounding like he just wanted to make small talk.  It made Luke jump all the same. “Yes, Lord Vader spoke of you when he was in my presence last, though I can see your father clearly in you.  You are very much his image; he even had a scar over his eye as you do.”

He knew he was lying — there was no way he had been a topic of discussion, not with the way Vader reacted just before.  There was no way he was going to call him out on it, though.

“Tell me, has Lord Vader so much as thanked you for saving his life over the Death Star?”

Luke stiffened, wondering just how much the Emperor  _ knew… _

“No, Excellency,” he answered, drawing a snort out of the old man.

“How very like him,” the Emperor replied, patting Luke’s shoulder in a way that was supposed to be reassuring.  It was far from it. “Then on his behalf, I thank you for protecting such a vital part of the Empire.”

He finally let go of him as they came to the observation room, a large window that looked out on the dojo below the only thing of note in the small space.  Luke ignored it for a moment, boldly turning his gaze to the Emperor.

“If he’s so vital, then why are you seeking to replace him?” he asked, more daring in his voice than he was feeling.  The question made the Emperor pause, before an unsettling smile spread slowly over his face, showing off yellowed, rotting teeth.

“It is the master’s responsibility to continue challenging the apprentice,” he answered, a cold edge to his voice.  “Something you will well learn with your own training.”

Luke felt his blood run cold, not helped by the return of those icy fingers, making his breath come up short.  Thankfully, it only lasted a moment as the Emperor turned his attention away from him and focused on Cylo instead.  Luke only half listened as the mad robotic scientist bragged about his creations, his focus on the room below. As Cylo talked about them, they lashed out at Vader, as if they knew to demonstrate their ability.  Luke suspected they  _ did;  _ he would not have been surprised if they had an electronic hive mind between all of them.

First it was the man and woman he had fought: Morit and Aiolin Astarte, twins of Separatists that had been offered up as an apology for taking the wrong side of the war.  They had been raised with nothing but utter devotion to the Emperor in the twenty years since coming into Cylo’s care, something that made Luke’s blood run cold. They were not much older than him, and meant to replace Vader… almost from the start of the Empire.   _ Why? _

Next was the trandoshan, who had not even been given a proper name.  Cylo had removed the creature’s ability to feel anything, something it happily demonstrated as it threw itself at Vader.  His lightsaber came up, easily cutting through the creature’s armor and into its shoulder, but without a pain response the attack did not even slow it down.  What bothered Luke most was how dismissively Cylo spoke of it, saying that such modifications could be made to anything if the Emperor was not happy with the alien.

The human woman followed, apparently a former R&D scientist before she submitted herself to Cylo’s care and took up the name  _ Voidgazer.  _ It was as Luke sensed before; her consciousness was connected to the droids that accompanied her, though those droids were more than just remotes.  Each contained multiple blades, like mini lightsabers, and they all lashed out at Vader at once. He countered them easily, not even showing signs of tiring after all this, but when he counterattacked, a shield sprang up around her, deflecting the attack.  All the while Voidgazer  _ smiled  _ dangerously; apparently she had friends on the Death Star, and was more than happy to seek revenge, even on someone that was “just” a survivor.

Next was the Mon Calamarian, a Commander Karbin that had fought and was severely injured during the Clone Wars. Apparently the design of his body had been inspired by Grievous, the long dead general of the Separatist droid army.  It was terrifying to see him  _ move,  _ like something less sentient and more droid, and even more so to realize Karbin had  _ chosen _ to be so different from what he used to be, to the point where all that remained was his  _ head. _

“Good, good,” the Emperor murmured as the last of Cylo’s creations backed off, and Luke could feel the elderly man’s eyes on him again.  “Tell me, young Skywalker, of all those before us, who do you believe would emerge victorious in a contest of strength?”

Luke glanced over at him, trying to gauge if this was some kind of test.

“Lord Vader, no matter what,” he answered softly.  Cylo let out a rude noise, but the Emperor ignored him, an amused light in his piercing eyes.

“And why is that?”

Luke held his gaze a moment more, before returning to the observation window.  His mentor was looking up at them, though he got the distinct impression that his focus was only on him.

“Because Lord Vader isn’t just strong himself,” he finally answered.  “He inspires strength in others.”

He turned to the Emperor then, a confidence rising in his chest that he did not think himself capable of in front of such a terrifying man.  The Emperor’s expression was hard to read, but Luke could still feel a cold rage bubbling just below the surface of his awareness.

“That is the kind of strength that motivates the entirety of the Empire,” Luke continued.  “That is why, I feel at least, that Lord Vader is so vital, and could never be replaced by an engineered creature.”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing to him.  Instead, he turned to Cylo, motioning down below.

“Perhaps a demonstration to show if young Skywalker is correct.”

Cylo tossed him a glare that Luke was more than happy to return.  He turned away after a moment, tapping something on the side of his head.

“To the death!” he commanded, and Luke could just make out his voice amplified in the room below.

Fighting broke out immediately, the room becoming a maze of brightly flashing lights of various colors.  Luke ignored the others, his focus on his mentor as he took on the trandoshan. Like before, nothing seemed to slow the creature down, nevermind the wounds Vader was inflicting on it.  The creature knocked the Dark Lord off balance, about to strike a blow that certainly would have caused damage to his life support systems if not for the yellow blade that suddenly appeared in the trandoshan’s chest.  It went down as Morit favored Vader with an amused smirk.

“That certainly thins the herd,” the Emperor commented idly, turning away from the window.  “I’ve seen enough.”

Cylo ordered the fighting to stop, before the two of them followed the Emperor back to the dojo.  He was commenting about how he had a use for the madman’s creations, but Luke barely paid attention, hanging back and praying this would end soon.  They stopped once they re-entered the room, silent tension drifting between Vader and Morit as only one could feel between two people that longed to kill each other.  The Emperor tapped his cane on the ground, the resulting sound not all that loud, but still seemed to echo through the entire room.

“You will be the ones to strike at our enemies in this hour of chaos.  Though make no mistake: I only need  _ one  _ of you.”

He allowed his words and the threat behind it to hang in the air.  Luke fought against a chill, privately grateful he was not counted among them.

“Do not kill each other,” the Emperor continued, before an amused smile came to his twisted face.  “At least if you do, ensure I do not find out.”

The tension in the air made it feel like something was going to break, and did not ease even when the Emperor turned his back, ordering Vader to accompany him.  Luke stayed where he was as the elderly man passed, looking up as his mentor approached. They held each other’s gaze, silent assurances passing between them that the other was safe, before Vader turned away from him.

“Return to the ship,” he ordered.  Luke was more than happy to bolt right at that second, but the Emperor raised a hand, stopping him before he could even move.

“No, young Skywalker,  _ stay,”  _ he ordered, an edge to his voice that had him shuffling closer to Vader.  The elderly man bent down, leaning heavily on his cane as he scooped up a severed droid head.  “Building an army and taking on an apprentice all in secret. Such a level of ambition I did not think you capable of, Lord Vader.  Perhaps you will win this little contest after all.”

Luke could feel Vader bristle at that, the protective blanket coming over him again.  He was not about to object to it, not after spending this much time in the Emperor’s presence.

“They are abominations,” Vader growled.  “This is heresy.”

“Do not speak to me of heresy when you yourself are more machine than man,” the Emperor scoffed, tossing the droid head carelessly to the ground as he stood up straight.  “You forget who is the master and who is the apprentice. It is your duty to learn what I know. It is my duty to learn what there is to teach.”

The Emperor paused long enough to stab an accusing finger at Vader.

“You are unworthy of taking on an apprentice,  _ especially  _ a  _ weak  _ one, fostered on sentiment!”

Luke bristled at the insult, though his own anger was nothing compared to the rage coming off of Vader.  If the Emperor could sense if from either of them, he did not care to remark on it.

“I named you ‘Vader’ when you pledged yourself to the Sith.  You were  _ worthy  _ of it at that moment, yet you quickly proved how  _ lacking  _ you were,” the elderly man continued, turning his back to the two of them.  “Prove yourself  _ better  _ than Cylo’s creations, or die as Anakin Skywalker did: unworthy, abandoned, and alone.”

With that, the Emperor disappeared down the hall, leaving Vader near shaking in rage, and Luke overwhelmed with the weight of what he just heard.

~.oOOo.~

Vader’s rage had not cooled by the time they made it back to the ship, barely acknowledging that both Aphra, Tanbris,  _ and  _ the Rebel woman were about to head out looking for them, armed well enough to take down half the installation.  Apparently their coms had gone out in the middle of all the chaos that happened after Aphra lost contact with Luke’s droids.  He had not noticed, and he did not care enough to acknowledge their concern now, barking at them to take off before confining himself to a more secluded part of the ship.

Palpatine knew about Luke, whether because Luke told him his name or he knew beforehand.  Seeing him  _ touching  _ his son alone had been enough to enrage him, and at that moment, he would have speared his own master through with his lightsaber if his son had not been in the way.  The only consolation he had in all of this was his…  _ master  _ believed him weak; teaching him to dampen his presence in the Force had been wise, and Luke following his instincts and concealing how much he knew even more so.  It meant the Emperor had no clear picture as to just what his son was capable of. It bought them some time, if only a little.

They were long into hyperspace by the time he felt calm enough to rejoin the others.  He could hear Luke talking as he came to the main rest area, and saw him first, curled up next to DV and leaning heavily on the droid.  Triple Zero was hovering nearby, looking far too interested as his son described his rivals, likely filing the information away for use later.  Conversely, BT was wholly uninterested, powered down in a corner away from everyone else, his status light blinking rhythmically. The other three humans were hanging on Luke’s every word, right down to that last miserable argument with Palpatine.  Vader felt himself bristle all over again at the reminder, enough that his son turned toward him. The look on the boy’s face made his chest ache in a way he hated to acknowledge, and it was a fight for him not to grab him and hold onto him until he felt better.

An apprentice fostered on sentiment… maybe, but the alternative was something the never wanted to see.

“What did he mean?” Luke asked softly.  “Why did he say my father died unworthy and alone?”

Vader hesitated, and his eyes fell to Aphra over Luke’s shoulder, mouthing, “Tell him,” as obnoxiously as possible.  Luke glanced back at her, and she quickly shifted, picking at her teeth with a fingernail.

“As you know…” Vader began slowly, “your father came to the defense of the Emperor against the Jedi.  After meeting him yourself, I imagine you can understand what that means.”

Luke fell quiet, and Vader knew he was remembering the cold presence of his master.  He nodded numbly, fear coming to his eyes, like part of him knew what was about to be said.

“It was then that Order Sixty-six was issued: the annihilation of all Jedi,” Vader continued.  “Your father followed that Order as well, first at the Jedi Temple, and then to Mustafar, where he confronted his old master.  He was… gravely injured in the fight and, as Jedi do not kill unarmed opponents, left to burn to death near one of the lava flows.”

His son’s expression was impossible to read, and his mind was closed off, though he imagined he was not doing that consciously.  It was a moment before he looked up at him, and not for the first time was he reminded of looks that the boy’s mother would give him.

“...is that when you were put in that armor?”

Aphra’s eyes near bugged out of her head, disbelief that Luke had figured it out written all over her face.  Tanbris and the Rebel were in similar states of surprise, though the lieutenant recovered first, quickly standing and herding the women out of the room.  DV let out a chirp, doing the same to Triple Zero despite protests and threats. Still, it was not long before the two of them were alone, and Luke stood, his eyes never leaving him.

“You didn’t tell me because of the Emperor,” he said softly, clearly not a question.  “You were afraid of what he would do to me.”

Vader hesitated, reaching out after a moment, his fingers lightly brushing against Luke’s cheek.

“...the rage my master encouraged in me already led to the death of your mother,” he replied, matching his son’s tone.  “I could not let the same happen to you. That is why I put distance between us when you were younger.”

He allowed his hand to drop.

“Though… I also feared how you would react to the truth.”

Luke bowed his head, letting out a shuddering breath.  “I think… part of me always knew,” he said. “Teak… saw it too, would tease me all the time, but I just… I was just too afraid of the responsibility that came with being your son.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slow, before he lifted his head again.  Determination sparked in his eyes, so very much like his own. He reached for him, grasping the part of his arm that was still flesh with his left hand.

“I… I’m still scared; terrified after what just happened,” Luke admitted.  “But I’m still not backing down. No matter what happens next, I’m staying by your side, m— ...father.”

A small smile crept onto his face, joy radiating off of him at being able to say that word to someone.  Vader finally gave in to his previous instinct, reaching for his son and pulling him close in a tight embrace, a hand going to his hair as he felt the boy clutch at his robes.

“There is much more I need to tell you, my son,” he began.  He felt Luke nod against his chest, clinging to him a little tighter.

“We have time.”

~.oOOo.~

“I thought for  _ sure  _ that was going to go differently.”

Danres glanced up as Aphra came back into the cockpit, arms loaded with snacks and drinks she snuck out to grab from the galley.  The three of them were certain that father and son would be talking for awhile, and were determined to stay as far out of their way as possible.  Of course, that did mean someone would need to get refreshments, seeing as they did not know how long it would take, and Aphra was the only one crazy enough to try.

“I did too,” Danres agreed.  “I thought Luke was going to ask what Vader was doing while that was happening.”

Tanbris nodded in agreement, gingerly nursing his drink.  “Left to burn to death… not even Lord Vader has done anything so cruel…”

“Hard to imagine anyone could, but I don’t doubt what he said,” Aphra replied.  “That’s an  _ extensive  _ life support system he’s wearing.  You don’t get that kind of hardware from the normal kind of fighting.”

Danres hummed faintly in agreement, the cockpit falling silent except for the snack Aphra was crunching on.  Her mind was going a million miles a minute, processing everything Luke had told them before Vader appeared, especially about the Emperor.  She could understand the need for secrecy now — Luke had to be kept away from Palpatine, to lessen the chances of him becoming like his father, something even Vader did not seem to want.  There was no way she could blame him for that, all things considered, and she could not  _ believe  _ she was actually feeling  _ sympathetic  _ for Lord Vader of all people.  But when looking at the two of them, and how he clearly cared for his son…

“...we gotta keep looking out for them,” she suddenly said, drawing the others’ attention.  She paused, looking between them. “I mean, Vader can take care of himself well, obviously, but Luke’s definitely in more danger now that the Emperor knows about him.  He’s going to try and do  _ something  _ to him, I know it.”

“Why would a  _ Rebel  _ want to protect Lord Vader, or his son?” Tanbris challenged, narrowing his eyes at her.  “I would have thought  _ you  _ of all people would want to see them both dead.”

Danres shot him an irritated look.  “Hey, even I can see we have a common enemy here.  Just from working with  _ you  _ I can see it’s not the whole Empire that’s a problem.”

Tanbris let out an awkward noise, falling silent.

“It’s  _ Palpatine  _ that’s the issue,” she continued.  “It always has been; the Separatists didn’t believe for a second the corruption we saw in the Old Republic was  _ entirely  _ out of his hands.”

Aphra wiped food dust off of her hands before holding them up.  “Okay, not that I don’t agree with you after what we heard from Luke, but what are we supposed to do?” she asked.  “We are a Rebel traitor, a fighter pilot that can’t fly a fighter anymore, a rogue archaeologist, and a couple of murder droids against super creepy mystical voodoo powers.  If  _ Vader  _ can’t do anything against the Emperor — and he’s the baddest fighter ever, period — then what are normal people supposed to do against him?”

Silence fell over the three of them, a faint trickle of hopelessness churning in the air.  Danres scrunched her face up, trying desperately to think, and it took her a moment to realize she had a pair of eyes staring at her.  She turned, looking up at Tanbris, who was wearing a similar expression on his face for different reasons. It was a moment before he let out a sigh, slumping back in his seat.

“...you’re going to suggest something to do with the Rebellion, aren’t you?” he asked.  She paused, before realizing that was exactly where her mind was going to end up.

“I mean… many people against one, uh… ‘creepy mystical voodoo’ person has been fairly effective so far?” Danres replied, getting a big grin out of Aphra and an eye roll from the lieutenant.

“We should focus on ensuring Lord Vader is returned to his post as commander of Imperial forces,” Tanbris said.  “It… would put us in an ideal position to find those that share… similar views of the Empire.”

She paused, staring at him in surprise, before a small smile threatened to creep up on her face, noticing him taking what she said before to heart.  He let out a faint noise, refusing to look at her as Aphra leaned back in her seat, munching thoughtfully on her snack.

“Why not do both?” she asked, getting raised eyebrows aimed at her.  “No, really, hear me out; we got the Rebellion on one side, we got forces loyal to Vader — and his kid, ‘cause I’m sure Luke has some friends too — on the other, and you have the Emperor and his forces sandwiched in the middle, forced to fight a war on two fronts.  Eventually he’s going to wear himself thin, and…”

She made an exploding motion with her hands, Danres’ face slowly lighting up.  Even Tanbris seemed to consider it a good plan, if the way he was nodding was any indication.

“By that time, both sides will have been working in concert for so long that we could  _ probably _ sit down peacefully, come to some kind of agreement on how to look out for each other,” she said softly, a smile coming to her face as she felt hope stirring in her chest for the first time in awhile.

“But how are we going to get the Rebellion to cooperate?” Tanbris asked.  “It’s not like either one of us can give them a call and tell them the plan.”

Danres opened her mouth to respond, only to close it right away, leaning back in her seat.  Her initial thought was that she could, in fact, just give them a call, but again, there was the whole issue of her being “lost” while in the middle of Vader’s palace.  There was no way anyone would take her suddenly appearing again as anything other than a compromised agent. She would be treated as a spy and…

...wait.

“Maybe we can,” she said, earning herself a frown from the both of them.  “We can get our hands on the Fulcrum codes.”

“The what now?” Aphra asked.

“Fulcrum is the name used by deep cover informants and recruiters for the Alliance,” Danres explained excitedly.  “Data coming in from Fulcrums is  _ essential;  _ no member of the Rebellion will ignore it.”

She held up a finger, a grin coming to her face.   _ “Best  _ of all, Fulcrums do  _ not  _ reveal their faces in calls.  Once we get the codes, we can call in with information, and no one would know who we are.”

Tanbris looked like he wanted to protest, only to end up slumping back in his seat, coming up empty.  Danres turned toward him, expecting him to at least try, but he ended up shaking his head in defeat, lifting his head to meet her gaze… only to freeze solid, his eyes focused on something behind her.  It was then that she became aware of the  _ breathing,  _ her blood instantly running cold at the sound, even though she had gotten used to hearing it constantly by now.

“You two are left alone with a Rebel for five minutes, and are already plotting treason?” Vader rumbled, and Danres turned to see his huge frame taking up the entire entrance to the cockpit, arms folded over his chest.  At least his tone sounded more  _ amused  _ than accusatory, but it still left her feeling on edge, and she had to swallow hard and count to ten in her head before she felt daring enough to respond.

“Like you aren’t?” she challenged.  He  _ stared  _ down at her, and somehow, through some sheer stubborn force of will that she dragged up from somewhere, she managed to stay where she was, even as he shifted, unfolding his arms in favor of hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“...what do we need?”

A slow smile came back to Danres’ face as Aphra let out a squee, flinging her hands up in the air and nearly scattering her snack all over the cockpit.  She could not believe this; they were really going to set in motion a united front between Vader and the Rebellion. This was definitely number one on the list of things she  _ never  _ thought would happen.


	15. Dathomir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo boy, I've been fighting about how I feel about this chapter. I really wanted this character development for Leia, but I've been worried about how people will view it. I feel the Nightsisters destruction was criminal, and even though they were clearly dark aligned, they weren't _entirely_ evil. The Wild Power section of the Book of Sith, which I relied on heavily for this chapter, supports this, so my interpretation of them might not _completely_ align with canon. Either way, they're practically forgotten about after Clone Wars, with one exception, and I feel that letting that Force-centric neutrality die is just as terrible as the death of all those Jedi during the purge, which is what lead to just about everything in this chapter.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Leia rubbed her eyes tiredly as Artoo chirped behind her, rousing her from her nap.  Blinking blearily at the swirls of hyperspace outside her cockpit window, she allowed herself a yawn before reaching for the controls of her X-wing, pulling the ship back into real space a moment later.  Maul’s ship pulled out in the next minute, but she barely paid attention to his dark presence. Instead, her attention was drawn to the planet before her, taking in the unsettling red gleam that glared out at her, as if actively trying to repel her.

Maul had insisted they come out here, far into the Outer Rim to a world she had never heard of before.  He had said delving in a world that had seen so much darkness would be an important lesson for her. She was seriously starting to doubt that the closer they got to that creepy red hue.

“You’re not  _ nervous,  _ are you, Leia?” Maul’s voice came in over her headset.  She glanced out of her cockpit at his ship: an old personal craft of a model she could not place.  Really, she just wanted to turn her X-wing around and leave, but she was not about to say as much.

“Nervous?” she replied instead.  “Why would I be?”

Her flippant response was met with an amused chuckle, and she let out a sigh.  After all the training she went through with him, she was fairly confident he was not out to kill her.  It did not make the situation any less unnerving; she may not die here, but it was amazing what people could live through.

They landed before the gnarled remains of a forest, the dead trees looking more like skeletal hands reaching up toward the sky.  Bones littered the ground beneath their ships, and Leia was reluctant to even leave her cockpit. The Dark Side was  _ strong  _ here, stronger than she had ever felt it.  She lingered a moment longer before reluctantly standing up in her fighter, glancing over to the side to see Maul emerge from his ship.  Instead of dropping to the ground, he vaulted himself to the very top of the strange craft, lounging on it like it was a beach chair. It was a good minute that Leia stared at him, incredulous, before he noticed, waving her off dismissively.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked.  “Shoo, go on.”

Leia stared at him, before turning her attention ahead.  While she had been distracted, the trees before her had parted, revealing a path forward.  She was fairly certain she felt a chill crawl up her spine.

“Alone?” she asked, turning back toward him.  “What’s out there?”

“Only what you take with you,” Maul replied idly, folding his arms behind his head, looking for all the galaxy like a  _ sunbather.   _ Leia let out a frustrated noise, wishing screaming would do her some good.  Instead, she discarded her helmet and her flight gear, before vaulting over the side, landing on the dusty ground below in a crouch.  Dirt and grime immediately clung to her, making her grateful she had long stopped wearing her Alderaanian whites.

“Stay with the ship, Artoo,” she ordered, receiving a hasty confirmation in return.

Leia stated down the open path, and it was not long at all before she could no longer see either ship behind her.  She had a sneaking suspicion that was due to the trees closing up behind her, but she continued forward anyway, trying not to shiver.  The Dark Side surrounded her, like the whole planet had been seeped in it. More than that,  _ many  _ people had died in this forest, more than she cared to imagine.  If the scattered droid shells were any indication, it happened some time during the Clone Wars; one of the many undocumented engagements no doubt.

The farther she walked, the more she could  _ feel  _ a hum in the air, like the Force itself was starting to sing.  It was a moment before she realized she was sweating, the temperature suddenly rising dramatically.

_ “You were the chosen one!” _

Leia gasped at the familiar voice, spinning around, her feet suddenly crunching on volcanic rock.  The forest was gone, replaced with lava flows and an unbearable, suffocating heat. She stood on a hill, looking down at two figures.  One she knew — he was younger, less desert worn, but she would never not recognize the man she called master for seven years. The other, however…

Obi-Wan seemed to disappear as she stared at the man.  His limbs were missing, save for a prosthetic arm, the hand clinging desperately to the ashen ground.  He looked up, straight at her, and while his features were indistinct, his brilliant blue eyes were begging for help as he slid closer to the lava, his clothes catching on fire.

“No!” she found herself screaming, running down the hill.  Where was Obi-Wan? Why did he do nothing?

Did he leave her father to die like this?

She skidded down the hill, black ash covering her legs as she flung her hand out, reaching toward her father as his whole body was engulfed in flames.  Her fingers brushed against his metal ones, feeling them twitching in pain before falling still… and suddenly they  _ moved,  _ grabbing her by the wrist.  Leia screamed before she could stop herself, her father pulling himself out of the flames.  Only instead of the indistinct face, it was the all too familiar death’s head of Darth Vader’s mask.  She struggled, trying to pull away, but she could not get any purchase on the ashen ground. It started to sink beneath her, pulling her and Vader both down into the darkness…

_ “It seems in your anger, you killed her…” _

It was dark, so dark and heavy and… and pain.  Everything hurt, to the point where she wanted to claw off her own skin.  The back of her skull felt like it was burning, needle-like points of contact boring into her skull.  Her limbs felt heavy, like they were solid metal, and when she could finally see something other than  _ darkness  _ before her, she realized the world was tinted red, not unlike…

_ “No!” _

Her scream echoed around her as she suddenly pitched forward, landing roughly in the dirt.  It took her a moment to realize she was back in the present, now sprawled out on the edge of the forest.  Before her was the remains of a small, primitive village, long abandoned and left to decay. Death clung to the very air around this place, much in the same way as it clung to Maul.

“This was your village, wasn’t it?” she murmured as if the zabrak were standing beside her, shakily forcing herself back to her feet.

It was a moment before she finally continued forward, carefully picking her way through the remains of the village, mindful not to accidentally step on someone’s bones.  She did not know what she was supposed to be doing here; just being on the planet felt like she was violating sacred ground.

Leia came to a stop midway through the village, impatience starting to creep up her spine.  Attack her with visions unsettling and painfully real and… then what? Nothing? Just as she was about to turn around and go back, fully intent on giving Maul an earful, she caught a flash of red out of the corner of her eye.  She turned, spying a tall woman cloaked in red standing just down the way, her hands folded in front of her. The woman said nothing, but Leia got the distinct feeling she was invited to follow as she turned, walking off and disappearing behind a building.

Hesitating only a moment, she followed after her, running past empty homes and abandoned training grounds.  As she went, it felt as if life was returning to the village; she could hear women shouting, metal clashing on metal, yet no matter where she looked, there was nothing save for a faintly green mist that seemed to cling to the ground.

It was a moment before the village was behind her, and Leia found herself staring up at a sheer cliff face.  She paused, looking around, and very nearly let out a scream of aggravation until she spotted the red clad woman.  She inclined her head, before she suddenly seemed to disappear behind a boulder. Leia ran to where she was, before she stopped short, a narrow opening in the face of the rock, just barely hiding a whisper of red fabric.  If she had not seen the woman, she would have missed it entirely.

Hesitating once more, steadily beginning to feel like this was a trap, Leia squeezed herself into the gap, coming into a large, dimly lit cave.  It was cool inside, and she could hear the rush of water in the distance. She spotted the woman again easily enough, her bright red robes clearly visible in the dark.  Once again she followed after her, carefully making her way through narrow corridors and naturally worn bridges of rock, that green mist dancing at her heels with each step.

Finally, she came to a massive chamber within the cave system, primitive banners scrawled with symbols that she did not recognize decorating the walls, untouched by the effects of time.  The ground was surrounded by a massive lake of water that extended far out beyond what she could see. The woman in red stood at the center of the room, a box-like container behind her that reminded Leia of a coffin, and a rock structure before her, draped with a cover adorned with the same symbols as the banners.

Leia approached carefully, and the woman merely watched, eyes dark and intense, favoring her with the same kind of smile that Maul would give her.  Again, she did not speak, but Leia could  _ feel  _ her intent; that she meant her no harm, only wanted to teach her, to show her that which she needed to see.  The green mist gathered up from the floor, coalescing into a goblet on the rock table between them, full of a clear, odorless liquid.  The woman took up the goblet, holding it up, and Leia followed it with her eyes to see an opening in the chamber ceiling, where she could see the four moons clearly in the night sky above.

...when had it become night?

The Force felt like it was humming around her again as the woman lowered the goblet, extending it out to her in an invitation to drink from it.  Leia stared at her like she was crazy; there was no way she was drinking anything that materialized out of mist. Yet even as she moved to step away, the Force sang with reassurance.  This was not going to kill her, this woman did not mean her harm.

Again, Leia could not help but think that it was amazing what people lived through.

She reached for it, gingerly accepting it, yet still hesitated to drink from it.  Her thoughts drifted to Maul, and the merciless teasing she would no doubt receive if she backed down now.  It was irritating enough to get her to drink, downing the contents as she kept her eyes on the woman in red.

No sooner did she pull the goblet from her lips, did she feel her breath freeze in her lungs.  She dropped it, the metal clanking loudly before it rolled away, disappearing into the dark corners of the room.  Her vision started to dim, and she could only hear a faint whisper as unconsciousness claimed her.

_ There is only the Force… _

~.oOOo.~

Maul let out a nostalgic sigh as he watched the sun dip below the treeline, the first moon of Dathomir’s night climbing into the sky. He had only been to his homeworld a few times since he was child, the longest stay being when he commanded the Crimson Dawn and the underworld of the galaxy knew to fear him.  But that, like so many things of his home, had crumbled to dust long ago, leaving him with yet another memory of greater times.

Despite his seeming indifference toward what he sent Leia off into, he kept track of her through the Force, sensing her fear and frustration and terror… and then finally sensing it as her presence dimmed to almost nothing.  He jolted up, for a moment concerned… until he caught sight of a green mist, and heard a faint whisper of all being well. He sunk back, a smirk working its way onto his face.

“Oh, mother, must you do this to  _ every  _ woman I bring home?” he asked the thin air, humor in his voice.  Over in Leia’s ship, her droid swiveled his head toward him, letting out a confused chirp.  Maul waved him off, before jumping down from his ship, calling his walking staff to his hand.

“Stay with the ships, droid,” he finally said to him.  “I suspect your master is going to need a hand getting back.”

~.oOOo.~

It felt like she was seeing the history of the galaxy all at once.  A thousand faces passed by a thousand times, chants in unfamiliar languages filling her ears, slowly transforming into the Basic they spoke today over the centuries that passed before her.  Whispers of the Force, of training methods taught and long forgotten, or changed to suit the changing times. Eventually the voices started to sound familiar, people she had heard in dreams and visions giving way to faces she knew.  She watched as those faces grew older, more familiar, weighted down with the passing of time, before…

_...a brilliant explosion.  Millions of voices crying out in terror before abruptly going silent.  The pillar of darkness that stood behind her protecting her, shielding her as a festering wound ripped open in the Force itself… _

Leia let out a gasp as she shot upright, her chest heaving as her head swam from the information overload that just assaulted her senses.  She took a moment to suck in lungfuls of air, well aware that her surroundings had changed, though it was a moment before she could do anything about it.  Tall, purple grass surrounded her, waving gently in the faint, cool breeze. In the distance she could see a mountain range, their rocky surface a kaleidoscope of color that almost seemed unnatural.  The sky above was caught in perpetual twilight, purples and dark blues giving way to warmer colors at the horizon.

It was a moment before Leia could stand, immediately trying to reach out with her senses and see where she was.  As soon as she did so, however, a  _ vibration  _ rang out around her, so strong she could  _ see  _ it in the air, not to mention how the grass swayed in response.  She drew back a moment in surprise, before she tried again, watching in amazement as her attempts to use the Force created  _ music  _ around her, a tune that was uniquely her own.  For a moment, she found herself doing it deliberately, a smile spreading over her face as her song played.

That smile faltered when she realized she was not alone.  Spinning around, Leia found herself face to face with a strange creature, with a bird-like head and cat-like body, covered in feathers and fur so white it was hard to look at.  It studied her with bright green eyes, reminding her of the mist the woman in red had conjured. Somehow, Leia stood her ground as the creature approached, a strangely gentle quality to it that she could not explain.  Hesitantly, she reached out to the creature, her hand just inches away from touching its beak, when a loud screech drew her attention away.

She whipped around, just in time to see a night-black creature dive into the grass, disrupting the gentle swaying.  Leia took a step back in surprise as she heard the death cry of an animal soon after, and a terrifying, reptilian head lifted up from the grass, its jaw stained red with the blood of the creature it clutched between its teeth.  Yet even as she stared in horror, that same creature hopped out of the grass near her, a faint shimmer to its body as it fussed with its front paws, before hopping off. She found herself reaching out to it, only to notice the same faint shimmer in her own arm, and she recoiled, alarmed.

Was she dead?

As soon as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it.  No, this was… herself, her very presence in the Force. Living or dead did not matter here; all that really mattered was her sense of Self.

She was aware of the two creatures watching her as she started forward, running in the direction of the animal that had hopped off into the grass.  It brought her out past the grass, to the edge of a cliff face. The same multicolored rocks as the mountains in the distance dotted the ground, though she hardly noticed, her focus on what was stretched out below her.

It was like a massive, gaping wound in the ground itself.  The grass around the opening had rotted to a blackened husk, and the hole itself was just  _ empty;  _ there was no lava, no  _ rock.   _ It was a nothingness so profound that not even the light wanted to touch it.

She felt more than saw the two creatures from before come to either side of her, seating themselves at the edge of the cliff.  As one they gazed upon the wound in the Force and let out a mournful cry, both aching for the life lost.

Leia felt first the darkness pulse around her, making her head pound as the surrounding area seemed to fall away.  The last thing she felt was the stare of both creatures before she awoke with a jolt, finding herself laying out where she had fallen, staring up at the natural skylight and the four moons above her.  A groan escaped, intimately aware of every ache and pain in her body, half wishing she was still in her spirit form instead of her fleshy shell; at least that would not ache like this.

It was a moment before she could push herself upright, noticing immediately that her  _ hair  _ felt strange.  Reaching back, she felt something soft interwoven in her braids  _ somehow,  _ and something told her it was a ribbon to match the same shade of red as the woman’s clothes.

Speaking of… Leia looked around, unable to find anything from her vantage point that even indicated that woman existed.  Once she stood, however, she came face to face with an ancient tome, resting where the goblet had materialized, as if left specifically for her.  She hesitated to even touch it, feeling darkness wafting off of it like an odor, but… what she had just seen proved how little that mattered in the Force.  Her hands were flipping through the pages before she could question herself again, taking in familiar images of the creatures she had seen, runes that matched the tapestries with Lesser Basic translations scrawled in the margins.  An entire people’s history and mysticism was scrawled on those pages, and… they were trusting her with it?

Leia shook her head, at a loss for words, when she caught sight of that green mist, crawling along the ground, disappearing into the water.  She looked up, along the path it had been traveling, watching a green light shine beneath the surface and… something was calling her…

Before Leia could question what she was doing, she shucked off her weapon belt and her boots, wadding into the water before diving beneath the surface.  The green light guided her path and she could see  _ figures  _ in that light: women long dead that were beckoning her, guiding her, encouraging her to keep going through the water.  She paused once, returning to the surface for air before plunging deeper into the water, swimming all the way down to the bottom.  Something glimmered faintly in the green light, something she had never seen, yet  _ felt  _ plenty of times before.  Her hand closed around it, pulling it free and hearing it sing the same unique song she herself had made in the Force.

Leia was exhausted by the time she made it back to shore, her limbs shaking as she pulled herself back onto dry land.  She was tired and longed to sleep, but she knew she could not rest here. Still clutching what she had taken, she put her gear back on and grabbed the book, before shakily making her way back through the cave.  She was struggling to stay upright by the time she made it to the entrance, squeezing herself through before leaning heavily against the rock face.

It took her a moment to realize Maul was standing just below her, both hands resting on top of his walking staff.  He looked up at her expectantly, eyes drifting to the items she was clutching, but mostly he remained focused on her face, as if she was expected to explain what she learned.

“I saw the Force as these people saw it,” she began, her voice shaking as much as she was.  “I saw light and dark work the same way. I saw them grieve the same. I saw everything in the galaxy sparkle with light the same way, like we are all one spirit.”

She fell silent, and a small, pleased smile came to Maul’s face as she unclenched her hand, letting her new kyber crystals sparkle in the moonlight, giving off a faint, violet glow.

“You’ve taken your first true step into a much larger world, Leia.”

~.oOOo.~

Leia was still asleep well into noon the next day, and considering how much she had been shaking when they made their way back to the village, Maul was not about to try and rouse her.  She needed her strength for what was to come, not just in training, but in everything  _ else.   _ He had felt the moment she truly realized how the Force worked, her light shining so bright he was certain every Force sensitive in the galaxy saw it.  She was going to have to be in motion constantly from here on out, learning on her feet and fighting endlessly. He was confident she could; she had the passion and the drive, he was more worried about being able to keep up with her.

Maul let out a grunt as he stretched his back, wincing at the loud crack it produced.  Oh, he certainly was not getting any younger. Perhaps when the Force took his spirit back, it would be merciful and spare him these aches and pains.  A sigh escaped from him as he settled back, mouth poised to bite into the tasteless ration he just unwrapped, when he paused. Faint tendrils of green mist were making their way into the hut he had placed Leia in last night, and it did not take long for curiosity to have him moving, pushing the curtain door aside.

Leia was sitting up on the pile of linens he had dropped her off on, a look of wonder on her face as she reached out to the mist.  It seemed to dance around her fingers, as if inviting her to command it. Maul raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door frame.

“It seems the Winged Goddess favors you,” he said.  She jumped slightly, staring up at him in surprise, before looking back at the mist still lingering around her fingers.

“It feels like the Force does,” she replied.

“There are many ways the Force allows itself to be seen,” Maul explained.  “Kyber crystals and spirit ichor; they’re both different manifestations of the Force’s will.”

He paused, reaching for the old tome Leia had brought back with her and flipping through it.  Once he found the page he was looking for, displaying a creature that had the body of a feline and the head of a bird, he handed it to her.  Leia’s eyes widened, her finger stabbing at the picture.

“This is the first creature I saw,” she said, starting to read over the page.

“That is the Winged Goddess, she who governs fertility and growth, while the Fanged God watches over the hunt,” he explained.

“Light and dark…” Leia murmured, flipping through the pages and finding the image of the near demonic Fanged God.  “So this is where the different ‘sides’ of the Force comes from. Somehow the fact that both are necessary to balance life got lost along the way.”

“Dathomir is hardly the oldest world to see practitioners of the Force,” Maul replied, nodding at her conclusion.  “But in my travels, the writings of Allyah, the first Mother, are the oldest recordings I’ve found.”

Leia closed the book with an audible  _ thump,  _ her hands trailing over the leather bound cover as the green mist around her quietly receded.  Maul was silent a moment, a small smile creeping onto his face, one he would never admit to, if only because it made him seem genuinely happy.

“Learn from the ancient Mothers, Leia,” he continued, drawing her attention back to him.  “They will teach you more than anyone claiming to be a Jedi ever could.”

Leia held his gaze, before she nodded, her attention going back to the book as she opened it again.

~.oOOo.~

“This… is an  _ insane  _ amount of credits.”

Danres was still in complete awe of what they just managed to achieve. The Son-Tuul Pride were a group of notorious pirates operating out of a planet of the same name, deep in the Outer Rim. Many in the underworld  _ longed  _ to be rid of them, not to mention how much of a thorn they were in the side of the Empire. With Lord Vader relegated to pirate clean up duty, they really did not stand a chance. Their members killed or arrested and their fortune seized, the Hutts and other underground elements were free to fill in the power void, and the money free to go into Imperial coffers. 

It was such a  _ shame  _ for the Empire that someone had the exact information on how the fortune was being transported and how to circumvent the guards  _ and  _ get away scott free. Now it was all spread out before them, taking up the majority of the floor in the large cave that was their designated rendezvous point on Anthan 13; more Imperial credits than she had ever hoped to see in her  _ life.  _

Aphra tossed her a grin, before she turned her attention to the giant of a Wookiee that had helped the two of them trick three other bounty hunters into helping them steal the whole lot without their knowledge. Black Krrsantan had aided Vader with the Cylo issue, and Aphra had fairly good history with him, so he was trustworthy enough. He let out a growl, and Aphra tossed him a lopsided grin. 

“Yeah, you get five times your score, and I’ll help you with your problem, don’t worry,” she said. 

Krrsantan let out a woof, reminding her how he would rip her arms off if she did not follow through, before going off, slinging a bag full of his take over his large shoulder. The cave fell silent for a moment… before the sound of  _ breathing  _ suddenly came from behind them, nearly making Danres jump out of her skin. She turned to see Vader emerge from the darkness, swearing she would never be able to understand how he  _ did that.  _

“I promised Santy I’d help him find the people responsible for cutting him up,” Aphra said, turning toward him. “Any chance of helping with that?”

“We will see,” Vader replied, hooking his thumbs into his belt, looking down at the massive pile of credits dispassionately. He did not look like he was thrilled, even if obtaining it had largely been his idea, understanding the need for the money. It was a moment before Danres came up beside him, tilting her head up at him. 

“We’ve got a droid factory, some shady people to lean on for help, and the means to pay them,” she began. “Now all we need is those codes.”

Aphra turned, flashing them a grin. “I’ve got a guy; calls himself Ante. He’s pricey, but there’s no one out there with a bigger knowledge base than him.  He’ll know exactly where Rebel governing intelligence is, and when we find them, we’ll find our codes.”

“Can we trust him…?” Danres asked, and she could not help but sound a little doubtful. If he was an information guru, there was nothing keeping him from spilling their activities for the right price. Aphra just waved a dismissive hand. 

“Don’t worry; I’ve worked with him before. It’ll be fine!”

Danres paused, glancing up at Vader. He returned her gaze, clearly just as doubtful about that as she was. 

~.oOOo.~

Leia found it hard not to be absorbed in the book she found — or had it been given to her? The whole experience in the cave had been so strange, she was still trying to piece it all together. Between the book and the cave, she had been introduced to a whole level of Force mysticism that she did not even realize was possible, let alone actually see it in practice. It all read so wild and fanciful that if she had not seen the two “deities” and what that green mist could do, she would have sworn Maul poisoned her with some kind of hallucinogen. 

He was back at the ships, getting them ready for take off. Leia knew they had to leave, and soon, but she found herself lingering in the village. She held a kyber crystal in each hand, cradling them as she slowly made her way back to the cliff face, the green mist — spirit ichor, it was called — lingering around her feet. She felt she needed to do  _ something  _ while she was here, but…

She looked up at the sheer cliff face again, before down at the crystals in her hands and the mist that followed her. She knew they were waiting for her, waiting for her to make use of them, but even with the book and pages and pages going on about shamanic power, she had no idea what she was supposed to do. 

After a moment, Leia let out a breath, sinking down until she was sitting cross legged before the cliff. When in doubt, meditate; it was something that had served her well so far. She set the crystals down on the ground before her, the spirit ichor puffing up around her hands. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, letting her breath out slow and sinking her consciousness deep into the Force. It responded to her readily, the wild, untamed power of the planet itself calling out to her. She followed it willingly, feeling that power  _ dance  _ around her, the air itself becoming charged with the  _ fire  _ of the women that used to call this place home. 

Leia found herself letting out a gasp as she stood before the Winged Goddess again, her luminous spirit freed from her body so suddenly she did not even feel it. The creature stepped forward, dipping toward her hands and letting something fall from her beak. It was…  _ something;  _ some indistinguishable thing that she knew she needed, but did not know its form yet. She felt, more than saw, something land behind her, and knew that if she turned around, the demonic Fanged God would be there, waiting for her to face him. 

_ You are a warrior,  _ a voice whispered in her head.  _ Whether it be words or blade, you strike to draw blood.  _

She could not deny that, so she was not all that surprised to turn and see blood dripping from the Fanged God’s mouth. It did not take much for her to understand what she needed to do, and she thrust her hands forward, coating them and the thing given to her in blood. She watched as the thing took on a distinct cylindrical shape, like it was absorbing the life-giving force and giving itself form…

Suddenly, she felt weight in her hands, and her eyes flung themselves open, staring at the cliff face again. Her attention was immediately drawn down to the twin lightsabers in her hands, still warm to the touch from… conjuring them? Is that what she did? They were nothing like her father’s; small in diameter and short, meant to be wielded in one hand each. The metal surface gleamed in the waning sunlight, offset by the wooden grips that reminded her of the polished sheen of her mother’s desk on Alderaan. 

It was a moment before Leia stood, holding both lightsabers before her and activating them.  One blade was shorter than the other, but both shown a brilliant violet that seemed to hum in tune with her very spirit.

A soft, peaceful smile came to Leia’s face as she closed them down, turning around.  The spirit ichor was gone, but the woman in red stood behind her, her hands folded in front of her and a pleased smile on her face.  Leia paused, a million questions coming to mind, but she sensed she only had enough time for one.

“Why me?” she blurted out.  “I’m not one of you; I knew nothing  _ of  _ you before I came here.  Why trust me with the secrets of your people?”

The woman bowed her head, and for a moment, the area came to  _ life  _ again.  Women were traveling about, leaving offerings in respect to the gods, training their powers or themselves; living their lives as they once had.  The woman in red reached out, a finger gently brushing against Leia’s forehead, and she understood. As long as one person knew, one person that could learn their traditions and would live to pass on that knowledge, then they  _ all  _ would live.  Leia let out a deep breath, nodding as the surrounding area fell silent again.

“I understand,” she said softly.  “I’ll make sure you won’t be forgotten in history, like so many others.”

The woman smiled gently, before disappearing back into the Force.


	16. Nar Shaddaa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I have so much to say, but I'm not sure there's enough characters in these notes to allow me to gush just as much happiness as I want to at all of you. 10k+ hits and 600 kudos already, and this fic is no where near halfway, let alone completion. Thank you all for your kind words and your support. The thought of continuing to get this out for all of you to enjoy has helped me to get through how tough work has been lately (which is also why this chapter is coming in so late).
> 
> Just one more note, I'm going to be spending some time going back and fixing some errors in previous chapters. Most of it is grammar and spelling that slipped through my notice, but there is one glaring mistake that someone pointed out before. For the record: there are very few people outside of the Alliance that know Leia was the one to destroy the Death Star (Vader and Luke being the main two that know), and even in the Rebellion it's not widely known outside of those that had been at Yavin. Also, _no one,_ other than Vader, Hera, Obi-Wan, and Maul, know that Leia and Vader are related. I'm sorry for the confusion, and that will be the first thing I clarify.
> 
> For now, enjoy the new chapter.

They needed funds, intel, and some brawn; that was the conclusion the four of them had come to while squeezed in the cockpit of Lord Vader’s ship. Vader himself was able to provide the access to money with a little bit of work as long as one of them could retrieve it.  Aphra said she could trick a few old friends into helping with that, and also offered to take Danres and hit up an information broker she knew.

That left Tanbris and Luke to find the brawn: an Imperial agent that was one of Vader’s men from the 501st. He was in deep cover on the Hutt moon of Nar Shaddaa, investigating a Hutt that had a fondness for Jedi artifacts. The man had more than enough evidence for action to be taken, but with the power shift in the line of command, his investigation was put on the back burner. The moment Tanbris heard he was a trooper of the 501st, he knew this man was going to be someone they desperately needed on their team.  No one (other than Luke, likely) was more loyal to Vader than the troop squad that had followed him since the start of the Empire.

The closer they got to Nar Shaddaa, the more Tanbris was reminded that his lord’s son was still only a teenager. Perhaps it was from spending the last few weeks in the company of Force-strong individuals, but he could _sense_ the excited energy that Luke was exuding at the moment. The young man had a plan for getting his father’s man out, one that had his enthusiasm slowly spiking over the day it took to get to the Hutt moon.

Tanbris already had a bad feeling about this.

“You still haven’t told me this plan, sir,” he reminded Luke when he heard the young man coming into the cockpit. He turned to face him, before freezing solid in his seat; he was not sure _where_ he managed to find homespun robes, but he looked just like a…

“Sir, with all due respect, are you out of your mind?” Tabris asked.  It earned him what could only be described as a pout, Luke planting his hands on his hips.

“What?  We’re dealing with a Hutt that collects Jedi artifacts,” he pointed out.  “He’s not going to turn down the chance of getting his slimy hands on an _actual_ Jedi.”

Luke plopped into the copilot’s seat as Tanbris felt the start of a migraine pound behind his eyes.  This was insane; they had literally just survived an encounter with the Emperor, were covertly conspiring to overthrow him, and Luke was going to go parading around one of the more densely populated Outer Rim moons dressed like a Jedi.  He could already _feel_ Vader strangling him as punishment for when this inevitably went wrong.

“And stop calling me ‘sir’, lieutenant,” he added after a moment.  “You still outrank me, remember?”

“I fail to see how rank matters in regards to you,” Tanbris muttered under his breath.

Luke shot him another impertinent teenager look, before flopping back in his seat, lapsing into silence.  He did not stay still, however, his gaze wandering around the cockpit.

“You know, you never told me how you got this thing…” he finally began.  “This relic isn’t yours, is it?”

Tanbris shifted uncomfortably in the pilot’s seat.  He was wondering when this conversation would happen.

“It’s not, sir,” he answered, earning a faint huff, but Luke did not correct him again.  “I… acquired it on the Death Star.”

Luke paused at that, before slowly turning his head, the request to explain written all over his face.  Once again, Tanbris was reminded of just how much like his father he was, and he had to swallow back his nerves.

“My last assignment on the Death Star was to acquire transport by any means necessary,” he explained.  “I believe it was so… you and your friend would be able to leave the Yavin system…”

He trailed off, watching the young man’s expression darken at the memory of that abysmal battle.  Of course, Luke and Teak had been flying short range fighters; they would not have been able to leave the system in them.  It was a reasonable plan… and even though everything went wrong, he was still able to transport Luke and his father to safety.

“I saw this ship being prepped for launch,” he plowed on after a moment.  “Once the crew left I just… went in and took it.”

He paused again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“...I did not realize it was Grand Moff Tarkin’s ship until I saw him enter the docking bay as I was taking off.”

Tanbris heard Luke shift in his seat, and he turned toward him to see a wide-eyed look of surprise aimed at him.

 _“Lieutenant,”_ he finally said, the scandalized tone of his voice betrayed by the smile that was creeping onto his face.  “Don’t tell Ailanis that; she might think you have the makings of a Rebel in you.”

Tanbris rolled his eyes at the mention of the Rebel woman, shaking his head… though he could not deny it _did_ sound like something a Rebel would do.  Add to that Lord Vader not seeming particularly _upset_ when he reported Tarkin’s death… maybe he should have seen this coup coming.

“Is that why we’ve just been broadcasting standard codes?” Luke asked, leaning over to peer at the communications console.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, earning himself an eyeroll that time.  “I’ve wiped the transponder of its ID, but I wasn’t sure what to call the ship afterwards.”

Luke paused, a thoughtful look coming to his face.

“Can I name her?”

~.oOOo.~

Luke left the newly dubbed _Windsor_ behind as soon as they docked, assuring Tanbris that he could handle this well enough on his own.  He had not just been charming and threatening to people during their quest to find Aphra; he _had_ paid attention as well.  He knew what to do… and also what not to do that would make him an easy target.  Which was exactly what he wanted right now; it was not enough that he _looked_ the part of a Jedi coming out of hiding, he had to act the part as well.

He could feel eyes on him as he traveled through the dank and miserable streets of Nar Shaddaa, and he knew his plan was working so far.  He could feel faint thoughts of an easy cash-in mixed together with the noise of the densely populated moon. Now as long as that meant people wanted to take him in to a Hutt instead of an Imperial station…

It did not take him long to find his destination: the dankest, dingious bar he could possibly find.  Granted, he probably had a pick of just about any one on the moon, but he had a _good_ feeling about this one.  Ducking inside, he had to pause at the doorway, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dim light within.  His hesitation gave the opportunity for every grisled creature in the place to get a good look at him, and by the time his eyes adjusted, he could tell he had _everyone’s_ attention.

Okay… this was going almost _too_ well…

“What’s your pleasure, _kid?”_ the bartender sneered, his hands absently cleaning a glass with a dirty cloth.  Luke hesitantly stepped further inside, swallowing down his fear and hoping for some confidence to come back.

“I, um… I’m looking to hire a ship…” he managed to get out, his voice timid.  “I-I… I need passage to… to Coruscant…”

That feeling of “easy cash-in” did not follow him in here, he realized very quickly.  It felt more like he was an easy _target,_ and he was beginning to think he _may_ have made a mistake.  He hazard a glance at the bartender, who seemed less than impressed with his nervousness.

“Kill him, rob him, throw his body to the scum-squids,” he ordered with the air of a man who had done this more than once before.  More than just a few patrons stood from their seats, pulling weapons from various places. Luke was definitely getting the impression that he made a mistake now.

“Wait, no…!” he protested, backing away.  “I-I can p—”

He ended up diving for cover as a vibroblade came swinging for his head.  He scrambled away, only to see another weapon coming for him, drawing a yelp out of him.

“Wait, please!”

His plea was met with a fist to his face, sending him flying into a table and then over it as it refused to break under his weight.  He landed on the other side in a crouch, his back screaming in protest at the abuse. It forced him to pause for breath before he surged toward his attackers, catching the table on his shoulder as he pushed up and forward, half throwing it at the person that punched him.

His first bar fight; his father would be _so_ proud.

When he saw a blaster come out was when Luke decided he had enough of the helplessly innocent act.  The moment it was pointed at him, his lightsaber came up, neatly slicing the barrel off. The bar was bathed in the blue of his blade, so much so that every darkened corner was alight.  He caught sight of a humanoid in the corner, looking like he was talking into his wrist, though his view ended up blocked as everyone who had been trying to kill him took a collective step back.

“Where did you get that, kid?” the bartender asked, suddenly _very_ interested in him; it only made Luke all the more uncomfortable.

“My father gave it to me,” he said.

 _“Right,”_ the man — a zabrak? — replied, a sneer coming to his face.  “And who’d he steal it from?”

“I don’t know; probably the Jedi he killed for it.”

He did not see the point in lying, and the look it earned him made it worth it.  The bartender looked over him with an appraising eye, before folding his arms over his chest.

“You said Coruscant, eh?” he finally asked.  “Take it you want to go to the old temple; need to keep it really _quiet.”_

Luke really did not like the way he said that…

“I can take you there myself, for a price,” he continued, a hungry look in his eyes as he gazed on his lightsaber.  “The price being that fancy glow stick of yours.”

It was a good thing he did not _actually_ need to go to Coruscant.  He may have had no attachment to the weapon other than his father giving it to him to use, but he was reluctant to part from it all the same.

“No deal,” he replied.  “I can get you credits.”

“I didn’t ask for credits,” the bartender sneered back at him, “and you don’t have them anyway.  You’re a poor liar, kid.”

“It stays with me,” Luke insisted.  The atmosphere in the bar instantly shifted back toward murderous.

“Then we go with the original plan,” the bartender said, “and I still get that lightsaber.”

Luke grit his teeth as the patrons started toward him again.  Seriously, how had Danres dealt with these kind of people on a regular basis?  She made it look so easy.

“Then come and get it—”

He barely had the chance to finish that sentence before the tingle of electricity struck his hands, the lightsaber suddenly wrenched out of them.  Luke spun in surprise, seeing the humanoid from before calling it to him with some kind of electromagnetic glove. He was bolting from the bar in the next second, and all the patrons turned toward their new target.  Luke ignored them, no longer concerned by them, leaping over the crowd to get to the thief.

It did not take him long to realize how bad his hasty chase really was; he followed the thief through what felt like the entire moon, bounding over rooftops and plowing through busy streets.  He was exhausted and his lungs were burning, but he knew he could not give up. This thief was likely his best chance of finding this Jedi collector Hutt, and in turn, his father’s agent. Now if only the nerf herder would slow down long enough for him to catch up…

The man suddenly took a running leap into the air, his electromagnetic glove latching onto the underside of a passing cruiser.  He turned back toward Luke, saluting him with his own weapon.

“Nice try, kid, but you run like a pampered Imp!” he shouted after him.

Luke grit his teeth, feeling his anger spike.  Pampered, hunh? He would show him; despite the ache in his legs, he plowed forward, leaping after the humanoid.  The thief yelled at him, calling him obscenities he did not really hear as he latched onto his foot. Luke could feel the both of them slide downward almost immediately; that glove was not meant for the weight of two full grown humanoids, that was clear.

“You maniac!  You’re going to kill us!”

No sooner did he say that did the glove give out, sending them both plummeting to the streets below.  The lightsaber fell out of the thief’s hand, and Luke reached out for that first, calling it to him before he flung the Force out around him.  Instantly, their fall began to slow, until Luke was safely able to set foot on the street. The thief landed less gracefully, though that may have had something to do with Luke letting go the moment he had touched down.  He felt a _little_ guilty as the man scrambled away from him.

“You’re insane…!” the man groaned.

“No, I’m a Skywalker,” Luke replied, a small smile coming to his face as he acknowledged that was, essentially, the same thing.  That smile faded as he grabbed the humanoid by the collar of his jacket, hauling him up to his feet. “Now, you’re going to tell me where your wild goose chase led me and _why.”_

The man did not bother to answer, his focus on something behind Luke…

“You’re in Hutta Town, boy,” a booming voice declared behind him, and he turned, letting the man go out of numb shock.

Luke had never had the displeasure of actually seeing a Hutt before now, only dealing with Jabba’s minions rather than Jabba himself back on Tatooine.  Still, he was pretty sure they did not normally get as _massive_ as this particular Hutt.  The creature towered over Luke, and was held up off the ground by numerous mechanical legs, each ending in a wickedly curved hook and grafted directly into the Hutt’s flesh.  While he was large, he was far from corpulent, his slug-like body well muscled in a way that just did _not_ seem natural for the species.

At least the necklace of lightsabers hanging around his thick neck made it clear this was the Hutt he was looking for.

“That means you and that little saber of yours are now the property of Grakkus the Hutt,” he sneered, getting Luke to ignite his lightsaber as two magnaguard droids emerged from behind the massive creature.  “Put down my property before you get blood all over it, boy.”

It was tempting just to surrender; he got what he was here for, after all.  The wise thing to do would be to go quietly. He thought of his father, of the stories Vader told him of when he went by the name of Anakin, and realized he had already decided he would _never_ go down quietly.

He struck out at the Hutt, not all that surprised when one of the droids intercepted the blow with its staff.  It was easy enough to compensate — he had fought against his father’s modified droids often enough when he was training himself back to his full strength.  Those droids were not programmed to kill him, however; these clearly _were,_ something they were more than able to show as the other droid came up behind him, striking at his back.  He brought his arms up, his lightsaber blocking the attack as the other struck out, very nearly splitting his chin open.  Luke jerked to the side, stumbling away and collapsing to his knees. Fatigue was setting in, no thanks to the run through the entire city, and he could not concentrate on the Force enough to ease it back.

“How do you like my magnaguards?” the Hutt sneered.  “They’re relics of the Clone Wars designed to hunt Jedi Knights.”

Luke shot the massive creature a glare.  “I know what they are,” he hissed, gasping for breath.

“He’s gotta have something of a Jedi in him,” the thief said, coming to stand by Grakkus’ side.  “Swore I felt myself slowing down when we fell. Ain’t no way we survived that fall otherwise.”

The Hutt was looking at Luke with interest, far more than he felt comfortable with.  He held up a hand as the creature approached, a bad feeling settling in his gut.

“I-I don’t want trouble.”

“No?” Grakkus asked, raising a giant, meaty fist.  “Then you came to the wrong moon!”

Luke’s eyes widened, his last conscious thought was how much that was going to hurt before his world turned black.

~.oOOo.~

It was difficult to listen to _Grand General_ Tagge on the best of days.  The man’s _obsessive,_ overly cautious attitude normally annoyed Vader to no end.  Add to it their current company, consisting of Cylo’s abominations, and his foul mood was all the more palpable.  He stayed near a viewport as Tagge issued commands, only paying attention enough to nod curtly when his own orders were announced — pirate hunting duty, as he expected.  Instead, most of his attention was taken up by the stars outside, wondering if his son had made it to Nar Shaddaa, wondering what Aphra and the Rebel were up to now.

He was loathe to admit it, but travelling with the small, misfit group had been… _fun,_ reminding him of a freedom that came with much simpler times attached to it.  Being in command of the fleet was one thing; it was a massive force that would give anyone pause no matter where they went, with thousands of officers and soldiers at his beck and call to do as he willed.  Freely travelling from world to world in a small ship, with no one to question where you were going and why was something else entirely.

Before he could sink too far into depressed longing he felt… _something_ in the Force; something so strong his respirator was forced to skip a breath cycle to compensate for his surprise.  No one seemed to notice, or care to, giving him ample opportunity to reach out and study the sensation, picking it apart into two separate incidents.

One was very clear, if only because it was his son, and their bond had become stronger now that Luke knew the truth.  He could feel the boy’s fear, his anger, as he confronted something indistinct, something he could not determine from this distance.  His presence suddenly became muted, and Vader was left with the impression that whatever he had been confronting knocked him out. Somehow he got the feeling a crazy Skywalker plan was involved there… hopefully Tanbris would be enough to back him up…

Just as strong as his son’s emotions was the feeling of something stirring in the Force, a familiar sensation that Vader had experience several times himself.  Someone out there had just completed building a lightsaber, and considering how strongly he felt it, he could guess who. It was a struggle not to just walk out of this annoying meeting, to find Leia, and demand to know _what she was thinking._ There was no doubt in his mind his master felt that as well; at the very least, the old despot had to know there was a Jedi coming into power out there, even if he could not specifically tell who it was.  With any luck, Palpatine would be too distracted with his little game he had him tied up in to pay it too much attention.

Still, it drew the faintest of sighs from him.  Just _what_ were his children _doing?!_

“My lord?”

Vader was brought out of his thoughts by an older gentleman in uniform standing patiently before him.  He was not a regular officer, that much was clear; he held a cane in one hand, leaning on it in a way that suggested he very much required it.  A well groomed, white mustache stood out starkly from his dark skin, and the man’s eyes shown with a youthful vigor that came nowhere near to matching his age.

“Inspector Thanoth, at your service, my lord,” he introduced himself, bowing politely.  “I am to aid you in your investigation of our pirate problem.”

Vader knew what that really meant: the man was his new babysitter.  He glanced over the inspector’s shoulder, glaring daggers at Tagge through his mask.  The Grand General seemed to find speaking to one of Cylo’s monstrosities more interesting at that moment, even as Vader seethed at the man’s arrogance and audacity.

Thanoth turned slightly, following his gaze, a bit of a humored smile coming to his face.

“Do not blame the general, my lord,” he said, trying to smooth over the situation.  “A simple man is bothered by simple fears, nothing more.”

Vader paused at that, peering down at the inspector.  “You find invoking my rage a simple matter, Inspector?”

The man let out a brief laugh.  “Only in how simply the general seems to invoke it, my lord.”

Something like a smile might have twitched onto Vader’s face, though it vanished quickly.  Their clearly shared distaste for Tagge aside, this was just another person restricting his freedom.  He swept from the bridge, ignoring the abominations, though granting Thanoth a small bit of respect by keeping his pace slow so the elderly man could keep up.

“Do not think of me as a burden, Lord Vader,” the inspector began once they were in the hall leading away from the bridge.  “My only interest is in seeing justice delivered, nothing more. I can only hope to serve the Empire well.”

“The Empire, or the Emperor, Thanoth?” Vader countered, something like a bitter challenge in his voice.  “I have come to find that there is a  _ difference  _ between the two.”

Thanoth glanced up at him at that, an intrigued light in his eyes that made Vader pause, cape sweeping about him as he turned to face the elderly man.

“Of course there is, my lord,” Thanoth replied after a moment.  “The Emperor is a man, with his own ideals and will. The Empire, however, is a concept, an ideal that we all work toward.  Any part of that can stray from the whole, and the Emperor himself is no exception.”

Vader paused again, tilting his head curiously at Thanoth.  He had not anticipated finding others that would share their viewpoint before coming to command the fleet again.  Perhaps he would need to thank Tagge by giving him a quick death later on.

“I have a feeling you and I will work well together, Inspector…”

~.oOOo.~

Luke groaned as consciousness returned to him with aching slowness.  He called it; that punch had _hurt,_ and he was pretty sure his head was going to be pounding for weeks.  It took him a moment to realize he was being held up in an iron grip, and somehow he managed to get his eyes open to see why.  Though the darkness of the room made it hard for him to focus, he could still see that the magnaguard droids were on either side of him, each holding him up by an arm.  Grakkus was before him, somehow looking even taller than before, though Luke was half certain that was because of how he was on his knees. Either way, it was still an ugly sight to see after regaining consciousness.

“Good, you’re awake,” the Hutt said, extending a muscled arm out.  He was clutching a dodecahedron… thing; an object that felt vaguely familiar, though Luke was sure he never seen anything like it before.  “Do you know what this is?”

Luke eyed it, before turning a glare on the Hutt.  “Where am I?”

“My home,” the creature answered shortly.  “Answer the question.”

“No.”

Grakkus paused at that, peering down at him with calculating eyes.

“No you don’t know, or no you won’t answer?”

“Does it matter?” Luke huffed, trying to pull at his arms.  The guard droids held him fast, not giving him an inch.

“I suppose not,” Grakkus conceded, hefting the object.  “This, boy, is a Jedi Holocron. It is how the Jedi would record messages — their history and their teachings.  Only a Jedi’s power could unlock it.”

Luke wanted to focus a bland look on the Hutt, part of him tempted to tell him he just blabbed that he had a contraband artifact the Empire would probably consider highly dangerous directly to an Imperial agent.  He managed to keep himself back, too caught up in the idea of having a source of Jedi teachings at his fingertips. He was not interested in being one — he was determined to find a balance in himself and the Force — but having a source of “light” while he was surrounded by so much “dark” would make finding that balance easier.

Grakkus held the holocron out toward him after a moment.

“Open it.”

Luke stared at him like he was out of his mind.

“I’m not a Jedi,” he stated.

“True, but you have their power,” the Hutt pointed out.  “You have until the count of five to open it. One…”

Luke’s eyes widened slightly, pretty sure he would end up dead if he could not figure this out, but he did not have a clue as to where to start.  His father never showed him any holocrons; he had no idea what he was supposed to do!

“Two…”

“How am I supposed to open something I’ve never seen before?!” he demanded.

“How indeed,” Grakkus replied.  “Three…”

Luke let out an irritable noise, rolling his eyes before closing them, reaching through the room with his senses.  He could feel the holocron, as brilliant in the Force as a living person, to the point that sensing it was actually kind of breathtaking.  The one in Grakkus’ hand was not the only one he could sense, either; there were dozens of them in this room, each of them feeling like they sensed him, and were trying to reach back to him… including a familiar, warm presence…

“Four… Five.  Kill him.”

Luke let out a breath, and as he did so, let the Force out around him.  One by one, the sides of the holocrons began to turn, opening up and emitting a soft blue glow.  Dozens of Jedi, lost to the passage of time or the purge, appeared over their respective devices, each talking at once, announcing their names and a plea not to share the information they held outside of the Jedi Order.  Luke found himself trying to stare at all of them at once, wide-eyed awe on his face as he took it all in, the various alien faces, dressed in homespun robes, and…

“This is the battle and weapons training logs of Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight.  These records are only meant for use in the defense of the Republic…”

Luke’s head whipped around at the vaguely familiar voice, spotting the source just behind Grakkus.  Though the faded blue tint made it hard to get a good grasp of his features, he could see the sandy blonde hair, a shade darker than his own, as well as the scar over his right eye.  Not to mention the holocron’s light made made the person’s eyes a startlingly vibrant shade of blue…

“Father…?” he found himself whispering.  Thankfully, the Hutt did not seem to notice, too caught up in the image of a Togruta woman, begging the viewer of her holocron not to allow the Jedi to have died in vain.

“Well, what do you know…” the Hutt finally sneered, looking back down at him.  “It seems you’ll make a _fine_ addition to my collection after all.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at the creature.  Change of plans; he was not _just_ going to get his father’s agent out of here, he was going to take all of these holocrons with him, and rip this disgusting slug apart when he did.


	17. Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... surprise? I must have missed working on this, because I was able to sit down yesterday and type this chapter up lightning fast. I don't know when I will be able to get the next chapter up; that will depend on how the next few weeks of work go, and also, how hand writing the current chapter I'm on goes. It's proving difficult, as a lot happens in it (and it's going to be hella long).
> 
> Also, the error I mentioned in last chapter's notes has been fixed!

The battle raged around Leia, buffeting her ship as she dove headlong into the fray.  Her fellow squadmates were calling reports back and forth, shouting for help or crowing over their victories, but she could just barely hear them.  Her focus was entirely on the familiar TIE Advanced in front of her, ducking and weaving through the battle faster than a normal pilot could keep track of.  He was trying to shake her, trying to force her to go after another target, but she refused to lose focus, sticking to her target. Only she could do this…

...and this time, she would, uttering a silent promise that she would find a way to free the  _ real  _ pilot in that ship.

Mere seconds later, her target lock was chiming, and she passed up weakening the ships shields with her lasers in favor of a pair of proton torpedoes.  They easily cut through the ship, reducing it to shrapnel in a matter of moments. It was not long after that the simulation ended, leaving Leia with a good score, but she knew she could do better.

She  _ would  _ do better.

Leia pulled herself out of the sim pod, and Hera was the first person she saw.  The general had  _ hardly  _ been pleased with their little excursion; what Leia had  _ thought  _ was approval to leave turned into Maul completely neglecting to even tell Hera where they were going and mind tricking the docking staff instead.  It lead to the both of them lecturing him, not that it did much good, and ended with Leia promising to show the other woman that the trip had not been a waste.

When Hera finally turned her way and smiled softly, she knew she had succeeded.

Leia waited, listening to the end of lesson debrief, only to linger afterwards, sensing more tension in the air than there had been the last time she was there.  She frowned, peering at the other trainees as they started to filter out of the hanger, before turning her attention to Hera as she approached.

“What’s going on?”

Hera paused a moment, clearly tense herself.

“We’ve received rumors that there’s been a power struggle in the Empire since Yavin,” she explained, keeping her voice low.  “It… it seems like Vader was ousted from his position as commander of the Imperial forces.”

Leia’s eyes widened slightly, easily able to imagine how well he took that, if only because of how she would react to such pointless games.

“Is there any truth to those rumors?” she asked, only for Hera to shake her head.

“No idea, we haven’t established a new Fulcrum as far as I know,” the general replied.  “But we do have reports out of Anthan that two people cut a bloody path through a bar recently.  Using lightsabers.”

Leia let out a slow breath, dread rising up in her lungs.  Going off of what Maul said about the Emperor, she could guess that this power play was all his design.  But for what purpose, she could not even begin to fathom.

“I’m sending you back to the main fleet,” Hera continued.  “I won’t be that far behind you. The Alliance needs to establish a new base, and they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

She paused again, a small smile working its way onto her face.

“Leia, you better at  _ least  _ make commander quick,” she said, a bit of a teasing tone coming to her voice.  “You can take orders, you’ve shown that with Maul, but you are a leader, not a follower.  That part of you is never going to change.”

~.oOOo.~

Maybe Luke was becoming a pampered Imperial, like that thief had accused him of being.  Sure, he had spent the last eight years of his life sleeping on a stiff bunk, surrounded by at least twelve other people at any time, but that seemed like paradise compared to the dingy cell Grakkus had him tossed into.  It was not much better than a holding pen for an animal and, considering the smell, he suspected it may have held one at some point. If it were not for the two magnaguards stationed outside of it, he would have immediately broken out, if only to get away from that  _ smell. _

Mustafar and his father’s Nubian had spoiled him, clearly.

It was not until the next day that Luke was cuffed and dragged out of his cell, a magnaguard holding onto each arm.  He was lead through the Hutt’s expansive home, out into an open arena with a single occupant. The man was taller than him — no surprise there — with his features concealed by a dark grey hood pulled low over his face.  Other than that, he was not wearing much; just a pair of baggy pants, with criss-crossing leather straps over his bare, well muscled chest.

“You may’ve opened some holocrons, but that doesn’t make you a Jedi, kid,” the man said once they came to a stop in front of him.

Luke gave him a bland look.  “I distinctly remember saying I wasn’t a Jedi.”

“And yet, here we are,” the man sneered, and it was then that Luke realized he was holding a lightsaber in each hand, one of which was his.

“So what does that make you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The man in charge of making sure you put on a good show when you die,” he replied.  “You can call me the Gamemaster. Before we’re through, I expect you’ll think of other things to call me.”

Luke paused at that, a smile slowly creeping onto his face.  No, it could not be this easy; but undercover or no, sometimes there were things that people could not hide about themselves.  Like how this man sounded like a stormtrooper sergeant despite his Outer Rim accent.

“‘Gamemaster’, hunh?” he murmured.  “You sure there aren’t any numbers attached to that?”

For a moment, the Gamemaster lifted his head, just enough for Luke to see a pair of grey eyes narrow suspiciously at him.

“Cuffs off,” he snapped, and immediately the energy cuffs Luke had been bound with deactivated, allowing him to move his hands freely.  He was tossing his lightsaber to him in the next moment, and Luke caught it easily.

“Try not to die on me, kid,” the man sneered, igniting his lightsaber and barely giving Luke the chance to do the same before he attacked.

If the way the man talked before had not clued Luke in that this was the agent he was looking for, then the way he  _ fought  _ would have.  His movements were sharp, precise, and almost military-like in their efficiency.  Not to mention just as familiar to him as if he were fighting someone  _ else.   _ They locked blades, giving Luke enough time to toss the man a humorless smirk.

“I’m starting to think we have the same teacher, ‘Gamemaster’.”

An annoyed noise came from under that hood, Luke’s only warning before he was shoved off.  They traded blows at a rapid fire pace, with him forced on the defensive as the agent let him have all the strength he was capable of.  Luke allowed himself an opening, one the agent more than happily took advantage of, forcing him to trip up and land roughly in the dirt.  The agent leaned down, grabbing him by his hair and mashing the side of his face into the dirt for good measure.

“There a  _ reason  _ you tryin’ to blow my cover, brat?” he hissed in Luke’s ear.

He could not help but smirk.  “You sure you’re in cover? I could smell your bucket from a mile away.”

“Like you don’t reek yourself, coffin jockey,” the agent hissed, dragging Luke back to his feet by his hair before shoving him away.  “Again, kid! Try not to die so quickly.”

Luke gave himself a moment to rub at his tender scalp (he probably needed to trim his hair; it was horribly out of regulation by now), before he brought his saber up again.  He was heading for the agent in the next moment, striking low and putting himself in a position where they had to stay close as they fought.

“I’m here to get you out,” he said, shifting his stance to block the agent’s attack.  He could see a frown under that cowl of his.

“Can’t; need to see the mission through,” he grumbled back, shoving Luke off before jumping at him, slamming his lightsaber down against his with all of his strength.  Luke let out a grunt, almost losing his grip.

“Then we’ll end the Hutt together,” he hissed, struggling to match the other man’s strength.

“Just us?” the agent replied, skepticism in his voice.  “Where’s the troops I was promised?”

Luke finally succeeded in breaking the lock, using the Force to shove the agent back for good measure.  He stumbled slightly, recovering just in time to trade a flurry of blows before being forced into a lock again.

“Not coming; Lord Vader is no longer in charge of our forces,” Luke answered, his own bitterness at the situation easy to hear.  “General Tagge has different priorities.”

_ “Tagge?”  _ the agent hissed.  “What nerf herder put  _ him  _ in charge?”

“The Emperor.”

He was just barely able to see the agent roll his eyes, before he was shoved away, sent tripping over his robes and landing in the dirt again.  Luke lost his grip on his lightsaber in the process, and he heard it skittering away, his hands coming up in surrender as he found a lightsaber pointed at him, largely for show.

“Better; the audience made it to their seats that time,” the “Gamemaster” sneered, before he reached down, grabbing a fistful of Luke’s robes and hauling him back up.  He dropped his voice before continuing, “You better have a good plan.”

Luke gave the agent a sheepish look.  “That depends on how you define a plan…?”

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris had been worried the moment Luke left the  _ Windsor,  _ and a day with no contact did little to improve his mood.  It was a fight not to just call Aphra and the Rebel, though  _ those  _ two were busy with their own missions.  If things went south — and he was sure they would — who was he supposed to call for backup?  Not Imperial forces, and  _ certainly  _ not Lord Vader.

He could not stand waiting in the ship any longer, so he found himself locking it down and heading out, looking for a place that was at least relatively clean to get a drink.  It did not take long for him to bump headlong into trouble, but at least it was familiar, furry trouble. He stared up as the black furred wookiee growled at him irritably, probably yelling at him for bumping into him, though Tanbris ignored it, only taking a step back to get a better look at the creature.

“You are… Black Krrsantan, correct?” he asked, earning himself an unintelligible growl in response.  He did not understand a word of Shyriiwook, and it must have shown on his face. The wookiee rolled his eyes, turning and looking around, before grabbing a passing droid by the arm.

“Oy! Wot’s the big idea?!” the droid demanded, getting a growl in return.  “Translate? Do Ey look like’a interpritor?”

Krrsantan snarled, moving to wrench the droid’s arm out of its socket.

“Oll right, oll right!” the droid protested, turning to Tanbris as the wookiee growled.  “‘E says yeah, that’s his name. Wants ‘ta know if you’re one ‘o his client’s men?”

Tanbris looked between the droid and the wookiee, who appeared to be in a fouler mood than he was before.

“If… if you’re still working with Lord Vader, then yes, I am,” he hesitantly responded.  “Why are you here? I thought you were assisting Aphra?”

Krrsantan raised an eyebrow, letting out a soft woof.

“He did,” the droid translated.  “Heard rumor ‘bout a big ole fight in Grakkus’ arena.  Dat Hutt caught ‘imself a Jedi he did.”

Caught himself a… oh  _ no.  _ A hand absently went to Tanbris’ throat before he could regain his composure.

“I’m hiring you,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.  “That ‘Jedi’ is Luke. We need to get him out of there.”

He did not need the droid to interpret what the wookiee said next; the laugh made it fairly clear.

“You ain’t got the funds on a lieutenant’s salory to hire ‘em.”

Tanbris let out a breath, screwing up his courage.  Where he was pulling it from, he was not sure. Maybe he had been around too many wild and insane people since Mustafar, and he was going insane.  Maybe he did have the making of a Rebel in him as Luke teased; that at least required a little insanity, right?

“Perhaps so, but if a trusted agent of Lord Vader’s dies while you were  _ watching,  _ do you truly believe you’ll  _ survive  _ for very long once he finds out?”

The wookiee paused at that, his eyes studying Tanbris intently.  It felt like forever before he finally let out another soft woof.

“He wants ‘ta know what ‘yer plan is?”   


Tanbris allowed himself a tight smile.   _ Now  _ they were getting somewhere.

~.oOOo.~

As far as plans went, this had to be the  _ dumbest  _ one Sergeant Kreel ever had the misfortune of participating in.  The dumb kid basically wanted the fight to go on as planned, and he would take care of everything else, like he was some kind of miracle worker.  He supposed he should not be surprised, considering this insanity was coming from a coffin jockey. The fact that  _ years  _ of undercover work was coming down to this made it irritating.  At least the kid seemed to actually have powers; he definitely did not imagine himself shoved around by invisible hands, not to mention he had caught the kid practicing levitating rocks in his cell.  Lifting rocks was a far cry from what Jedi could do, however, and he doubted rocks would do much against the creature Grakkus picked to kill him.

Still… the kid had  _ spirit,  _ he would give him that.  Not to mention there was something about him that made you want to believe in him.  Maybe some of Vader rubbed off on the kid, or something; it was clear to him that he had spent a lot of time with the Dark Lord, possibly longer than he had while learning how to use a lightsaber for this mission.  Hopefully it would be enough for him to survive this.

Kreel stood next to Grakkus on the big day, watching as the magnaguards dragged Luke out of his cell.  The kid looked like crap, short on food and proper rest for the last few days, and those homespun robes of his were covered in dirt and grime.  Still, he stood tall with all the pride of any other Imperial; it was kind of impressive how that fire in the kid’s blue eyes just seemed to shine even brighter than usual.

“Ready for your big day, my boy?” Grakkus asked.  Luke just stood there, staring down the Hutt unflinchingly.  Typical coffin jockey.

“He’s as ready as he’ll ever be,” Kreel answered for him.

The Hutt half glanced at him.  “He better be; we have a packed house out there.”

That finally got Luke to do something, though Kreel doubted rolling his eyes helped his situation much.

“And what happens when I win?” he asked.  “You just lock me up to fight the next monster later on?”

Grakkus let out a deep, booming laugh.  “When you  _ win?   _ No one is paying to watch you win, boy; they want to watch you  _ die.” _

“And you’re so certain I will?”

It was almost unnerving how  _ calm  _ the kid was, so much so that it actually made Grakkus pause.  There was something about the look on the kid’s face that was familiar, something Kreel could not quite put his finger on, but he swore he had seen it before…

Grakkus recovered quickly, letting out another one of his laughs.

“Oh, you will die, but don’t worry,” he said, revealing something he had been hiding behind him: one of the holocrons the kid had opened.  “When you do, I’ll have your body stuffed and hung next to this one.”

The kid seemed to recognize it somehow, even though it looked just like any other holocron.  He struggled against the droids holding him, looking like he was going to strangle Grakkus with his bare hands.

“You think I didn’t hear you when this one started playing, boy?” he asked.  “What did you say his name was, Gamemaster? Luke? Yes, Luke  _ Skywalker,  _ son of the Hero with No Fear.”

Kreel managed to keep his composure, but on the inside he was reeling.  Yes,  _ that  _ was what the kid reminded him of; he seemed to embody all those old Clone Wars stories of the great General Skywalker.  No doubt that was why Vader was training him as well. At the moment, though, Luke definitely reminded him more of the Dark Lord.  The temperature in the room had noticeably dipped, and the look of cold  _ rage  _ on his face spoke of a very painful promise for the Hutt.

“I can assure you, I will defeat your beast before I  _ destroy  _ you,” he replied, his voice soft.  Grakkus merely laughed off the threat, turning away.

“So much anger in him,” he sneered.  “No wonder he’s not a Jedi.”

The Hutt walked away, the hooks of his metal feet digging into the stone floor as he went.  Luke was turned in the opposite direction, toward where the packed arena was waiting, with Kreel following not that far behind.  The gate closed behind the kid before his cuffs were deactivated, and Kreel reached through the bars, handing him his lightsaber.

“You all right, kid?” he asked softly, noting the temperature slowly returning to normal as he let out a deep breath.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured him softly, before glancing back.  “...don’t let Grakkus do anything to that holocron.”

Luke pushed himself away from the gate, striding confidently into the arena as the announcer bellowed over the loudspeaker.  Kreel watched a moment, letting out a breath as he turned away.

“...Force be with you, kid.”

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris decided he was much better suited for flying non-combat vehicles and assisting fighter squadrons over this kind of work.  He had managed to snag a pocket translator so they did not need to drag a droid around with them, but that little bit of convenience did not do much to comfort him in this insane situation.  Krrsantan had made it clear that everyone in this deplorable arena was here to watch Luke  _ die,  _ something he certainly could not allow to happen.

The wookiee had managed to secure seats in a prime position that would allow them to assist as soon as things went south.  It definitely seemed like they would be going in that direction immediately as soon as Luke stepped out into the arena. The announcer was rambling off nonsense, trumping up his greatness in ways the crowd was not buying.  He caught more than a few people commenting that he was just a boy, that there was no way he could be a Jedi at his age. That attitude changed quickly at the sudden announcement of his name:

Luke Skywalker, son of the Hero with No Fear.

The crowd went  _ wild  _ at that, the memory of General Skywalker fresh in the minds of Outer Rim citizens, as Tanbris let out a groan, planting a hand over his face.  What was Luke  _ thinking,  _ throwing around his real name?!

The announcer kept going, calling out the opponent in much the same way.  As he spoke, Tanbris could feel a thump resonate through the stands, causing the whole arena to shake.  He felt his stomach bottom out as the creature emerged; nearly as tall as the lowest of the stands, the monster  _ easily  _ towered over Luke.  Horns and spikes dotted its head and back, extending down its left arm as well, which ended in savagely hooked claws.  The right arm was mechanical, looking like it was designed to tunnel through volcanic rock in a previous life. A forked tail whipped about, very nearly catching Luke off guard right away.

What were any of them supposed to do against  _ that?! _

~.oOOo.~

“Kongo the Disemboweler” was a little too on the nose for Luke’s taste, considering what that tail of his nearly did to him.  Still, Luke refrained from igniting his weapon, finding himself surprisingly calm despite the overwhelming anger he had felt earlier.  He could handle the creature without ever igniting his blade; he  _ knew  _ he could.

The Force was with him.

He gathered it to him as the creature lunged with its mechanical hand,  _ leaping  _ up as it impacted on the ground.  Landing easily on the arm, he ran up and climbed quickly, making it onto the creature’s shoulder just as it tried reaching for him with his other hand.  His own hand flung out, pressing against the creature’s temple as he reached to the Force again, feeling the poor thing’s fear and pain and  _ hunger.   _ The creature had been left to go hungry the last few days like he had, only where not feeding him had been done with the intention of weakening him, Kongo had been left to go hungry to ensure he would be ready to rip Luke apart just for the few scraps of meat he was worth.

“Trust me, I’d hardly fill you,” Luke said blandly, letting out a breath as he tried to soothe the beast’s pain.  It let out a confused noise after a moment, sinking slightly toward the ground. He shuffled a little on the creature’s shoulder then, reaching out to the shock collar it wore; that was a little complicated, but it seemed to operate on a similar trigger as his cuffs.  All he needed was to find the electronic latch that kept it together and trigger it, and the collar easily fell away.

Kongo let out a roar once it realized it was free, and Luke reached out, soothing the top of its head as one would a pet.  The creature stood to its full height, starting for the stands as Luke looked up, scanning the boxes until he found Grakkus, standing next to his father’s agent.  He saw fear in the Hutt’s eyes, and he could not help the smirk that came to his face.

He had a promise to keep to the disgusting slug.

~.oOOo.~

Kreel could not help the smirk that came to his face as he watched the kid stand off against the beast without ever turning on his weapon.  He had guts, more guts than the average coffin jockey that was for sure. Maybe he would actually thank him for coming in after him if they made it out of this.  As it was, if Grakkus did not blow an artery when he realized he had been set up to fail, then that beast Luke was riding was probably going to kill him. It was digging its claws into the stands, sending people screaming in terror as it started to climb.  The magnadroids were trying to tame it, but anytime one of them got close, someone from the stands picked it off; a wookiee and a human, no doubt the kid’s backup.

“How could this  _ happen?!”  _ Grakkus snarled, standing up from where he had been lounging on some silk pillows.  “The boy isn’t a Jedi!”

Kreel did not move, the smile on his face broadening.  “Maybe not, but he has their legacy in his veins.”

As if to prove his point, Luke chose that moment to leap up from the creature’s back, making the impossible distance between the bottom stands and Grakkus’ box as effortlessly as breathing.  His saber was up then, pointed at the Hutt’s thick neck as he pulled off the homespun robes, revealing he had been wearing something more befitting of an Imperial underneath.

“You’re right, Grakkus, I am the son of Anakin Skywalker,” he said as the Hutt took a step back.  “But I am also an agent of Lord Vader, and I have the authority to execute you for your crimes against the Empire.”

For a moment, Grakkus held up his hands, sluggish eyes staring balefully at Luke.  It was a moment more before he let out a laugh, hefting the holocron as if pointedly reminding the kid that he had it.

“You fool boy,” the Hutt sneered.  “You are working with the man that killed thousands of Jedi with his own hands, your father likely counted among them!”

Grakkus must have thought that would break the kid.  Hell, Kreel thought he would at least drop his guard, sure that Lord Vader would have lied to him about his father’s fate.  Luke did not seem the least bit bothered by it, however, an amused light coming to his eyes.

“I hold no illusions about Lord Vader, Grakkus,” he replied simply, like he was alluding to a personal joke that only he found funny.  It only served to irritate the Hutt even more than he already was.

“Gamemaster!  Get rid of this fool!”

That was his cue; Kreel ignited his lightsaber, saw Luke narrow his eyes at him as if he were his enemy… before they both turned toward the magnadroids that were protecting the Hutt.  Their blades cut through them easily, and he could hear Grakkus swearing in his native tongue before the familiar sound of those metal legs of his reached his ears. They finished off the last of the droids just in time to see the Hutt’s tail disappear down the hall leading into the main area of the house.  Luke paused for breath — poor kid looked like he was running on adrenaline alone after those days locked in a cell — before he started after him, and Kreel only paused long enough himself to let out a curse before following. That kid had no business fighting if he was in that poor shape, and he was not losing out on the chance to see Grakkus suffer after all these years — especially to a coffin jockey!

It did not take long to catch up to Luke; there was a wall of magnadroids between them and the Hutt, still fleeing down the corridor.  The kid was making short work of them, but he was tiring quickly, his skin becoming paler by the second. Kreel jumped into the fray almost immediately, cutting down several droids to bring himself even with Luke.  The kid caught his eye, and once again he was reminded of Lord Vader with the way he held himself despite the fatigue. He suspected if he wore armor and a mask, he would not have been able to tell just how exhausted the kid really was.

Luke stumbled forward once the droids were dealt with, his lightsaber clattering to the ground as he clung to his knees.  Kreel let out an irritable noise, stalking forward.

“Stay back,” he snapped.  “You’re in no shape to be fighting.”

Not surprisingly, Luke shook his head stubbornly, collecting his lightsaber and forcing himself forward.  Kreel grabbed him by his shoulder as he started past him, shoving him back.

“Look, kid,” he began, earning himself a sour look.  “I get it. Your dad is dead, but that’s no reason to risk your life for a recording of him.”

Luke stared at him a moment, as if he could not understand why he would say that.  A faint smile finally came to his face as he shook his head.

“My father isn’t dead,” he assured him.  “But that  _ is  _ the only image of him before…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, before he summoned up the energy to push forward.  He left Kreel standing there in confusion, trying to understand what he just heard. A legendary Jedi, still alive, and apparently okay with his son working with Lord Vader?  Unless…

A sudden, cold feeling settled in his gut, and Kreel found himself running after Luke, his safety becoming his priority  _ very  _ fast.

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris had to force himself to slow down, a familiar ache in his back that was only going to get worse if he did not.  He collapsed behind cover despite the annoyed growl it earned him, grabbing at his back in a vain effort to get the aching to stop.  He could feel his spine easily through his skin, intimately aware of the metal and bone it was made of.

He had been a fighter pilot once — it was something of pride for him being one of the first members of Vader’s Black Squadron.  Other than Lord Vader himself, however, he was the only one left from that batch of twelve. A surprise attack had decimated the squad, leaving him as the only survivor, and he had  _ barely  _ survived.  A dud proton torpedo had pierced through the cockpit of his TIE, practically breaking him in half.  If the crash seat of his fighter had fallen apart, he would have literally folded in half in a way human bodies were not meant to, something that would have likely killed him.  His service to Lord Vader earned him the best treatment possible, but he was still, essentially, disabled and unable to stress his body to the point he was at the moment.

This was all a bit much; between the beast rampaging through the stands to the scum trying to get a free shot at whatever they could — just because, apparently — it was enough to stress out his entire spine.  After this was all over and Lord Vader was back to commanding the military where he belonged, he was requesting  _ at least  _ two weeks shore time on a peaceful resort planet!

Another growl was aimed at him, and Tanbris adjusted himself to start firing back at hostiles.

“Luke, you better not get yourself killed,” he muttered under his breath.  He swore if they made it out of this alive, that boy was  _ banned  _ from making any kind of plans.

~.oOOo.~

Every muscle in his body was aching in protest, and his stomach was demanding some kind of sustenance, but still Luke pushed himself forward, determined to see this through to the end.  He could rest when Grakkus was dead and his father’s holocron was safe in his hands, along with the others. Only problem was the Hutt was  _ fast  _ for a slug, and trying to reach out to the Force for his revolting presence was proving difficult.  It was by sheer chance that he happened to hear the clatter of his metal feet on the stone floor. Luke was running after him in the next instant, Grakkus pausing only long enough to shoot a look of something like fear before skittering off as fast as those metal legs could carry him.

Luke gathered the Force to him, taking a running leap, twisting through the air and landing in front of Grakkus.  The Hutt backed away as he extended his lightsaber, slowly stalking after him.

“Drop the holocron and surrender, Grakkus,” he ordered.  “You’re not getting out of this.”

Grakkus paused, before hefting the holocron in his hand.

“You’re right,” the Hutt acquiesced.  “So I have nothing to lose.”

Instead of just dropping the holocron, he  _ threw  _ it, putting all his weight behind it.  Luke could only turn around as it sailed past him, fumbling helplessly out to the Force, but it all felt so  _ slow  _ to respond, too slow to prevent the holocron from shattering against the wall.  The light and the warm presence within flickered out immediately, thousands of miniscule shards floating gently to the ground.

Luke stood there, dumbfounded and numb with shock.  Even still, he knew Grakkus was moving behind him, either trying to sneak away or strike him.

He was not going to be doing anything for much longer.

Luke had never let his rage overtake him like his father often did.  He did not like how cold it made him feel, how empty and broken it felt once it passed.  Right now he welcomed it, embraced it even, letting the emotion wash over him and dip the entire room into an unfathomable cold.  He felt the Hutt behind him pause, and he used the brief time to pick through his rage, discarding the lust for power stubbornly. He did not need power, did not  _ want  _ power, but he  _ did  _ need strength.

His hand tightened into a fist at his side, and he got the distinct pleasure of hearing Grakkus  _ gag. _

He did not bother to turn around as the Hutt struggled for air; he only tightened his fist until his fingernails were digging into his palm, small rivulets of blood slipping down his fingers.  This was not enough, it was not  _ satisfying  _ enough.  His invisible hands in the Force grabbed for that obnoxious necklace of lightsabers, clearly seeing the emitters of each and every one of them pressed against the Hutt’s thick neck in his mind’s eye.  He could feel the Hutt’s panic escalate, trying so hard to break free, but there was no freedom left for him, just a cold, terrifying realization.

“Va...der…!”

With a flick of his hand, all the lightsabers ignited at once, spearing Grakkus through the neck.  He did not even have the voice left to cry out in agony as his life quickly dimmed, before fading entirely.  It was tempting to hold onto his rage, to continue to draw on it and mercilessly hack apart the corpse, leave a grim reminder not to cross the Empire all over Nar Shaddaa.  Instead, Luke forced himself to let it go, breathing in and out slowly, letting a bit of his rage out into the Force with every exhale until he felt calm again.

Luke finally turned away from the shattered remains of the holocron then, fully intending to ignore the corpse and leave.  He saw Kreel standing in the doorway to the room, blocking the way out, and he could feel the trooper sergeant’s grey eyes on him.  After a moment, he dropped to one knee, bowing deeply and leaving Luke to let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be the worst kept secret in the galaxy at this rate.

“Rise, Agent Kreel,” he entreated softly, “and be mindful where you’re doing that.  There are only a handful of people who know the truth, and I prefer to keep it that way for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Kreel replied, straightening himself up as Luke fought against the urge to roll his eyes.  Oh no, not him too… “Your orders, sir?”

Luke took a breath; he supposed he should get used to this.  Whether it was in a few months or a few years, his status as Vader’s son would become publicly known eventually, and it would not just be Kreel and Tanbris treating him like this.

“Go collect the holocrons that remain,” he ordered.  “Burn the rest of the artifacts and meet us outside. We’ll be out of the area before local authorities arrive.”


	18. Ante

“What is this I hear about you nearly winning the Dragon Run, Captain Solo?”

Han winced at the familiar voice that he had not heard in a while now, hesitantly turning away from the  _ Falcon  _ to see that yes, she really was there.  Leia was standing behind him, her hands on her hips, the stern expression on her face betrayed by the amused smile that was creeping up on her lips.  Even if she did not look like she was going to bust out her lightsaber at him, he knew he would not have been able to look away from her. She looked…  _ better,  _ not at a hundred percent just yet, but a hell of a lot better than she had when she had left the base, and somehow she seemed older?  He was not sure how or why, but at the very least, the red woven through her hair was a nice touch, even if it clashed with the orange of her flight suit.

He finally cleared his throat after a moment, doing his best to hide the fact that he had been staring with a casual shrug.

“What can I say?  They asked me real nicely to participate; how could I say no?” he finally replied.

Leia shifted her stance, folding her arms over her chest as that smile finally won over her face.

“As I understand it, you were supposed to collect the spies waiting on the pit stop planets on the run and then throw the race,” she replied, and Han just barely managed to hide a flinch at being called out by rolling his eyes.  He turned, waving a hand as he stalked away, trying to give off the air that her calling him out like that had annoyed him instead of embarrassed him. Of course, he really was not all that surprised that she was hurrying after him.

“C’mon, your highness-ness, you’re a pilot too,” he called back to her, making his way out of the hanger.  For a moment, Han considered trying to lose her in the halls, but instead veered to a quieter area of the base, coming out to a balcony overlooking the forest that surrounded the ancient stone building.  He spun on his heel, leaning against the railing as she stopped before him. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t try to race all the way to the end.”

Leia opened her mouth, very likely trying to do just that, before she thought better of it, shaking her head.

“You were still reckless,” she said, moving to stand beside him, resting her hip against the railing as she looked up to him.  He turned to face her as well, raising an eyebrow at her. “But you did well, from what I’ve heard.”

Han felt a warmth in his face at the compliment, refusing to believe that a visible blush came to his face.

“I guess this means you’re leaving?” she continued softly, and Han did not need any kind of mumbo jumbo Force powers to hear the, “please don’t,” hidden in her voice.  He swallowed, finding himself leaning a little closer.

“Well yeah, I’ve got important jobs to do, you know.  A Hutt to pay off, that kind of thing,” he replied, before he glanced away, shrugging.  “But… this little Rebellion of yours won’t survive without me, so I  _ guess  _ I’ll stick around a little longer.”

There was a light in those brown eyes, one that practically sparkled at him, like she was trying to say she knew exactly what he was trying to do here.  She was not pulling away from him, however; her hand absently brushing against his as she shifted against the railing, never looking away from him.

“You arrogant laser brain,” she replied, her tone teasing.

“Your worshipfulness,” Han returned, a smile creeping up on his face.

It was a nice moment, one they had not really had much of a chance to have since meeting up again, seeing as life in the Rebellion did not want to slow down for two seconds.  Unfortunately, the moment was stopped dead before anything could really happen, by someone gruffly clearing their throat. Han turned an annoyed glare toward the person; he was not anyone he recognized, with a sharp featured face and his hair buzzed, holding himself like he was a soldier.

“Leia Organa?” the man asked, his voice sounding like sandpaper.  “General Rieekan was looking for you, ma’am.”

Leia nodded, giving the man a wary look.  “And you’re…?”

The man stiffened, looking uncomfortable.  “TK-Seven-Seven-Seven, ma’am. They used to call me Lucky.”

Han shifted, his hand drifting toward his blaster, but Leia’s expression softened, making him pause.

“You were a stormtrooper?” she asked softly.

“Was, ma’am,” Lucky replied stiffly.  “Is that a problem?”

Leia shook her head, a small, sad smile coming to her face as she pushed away from the railing, leaving Han behind, his mouth moving in voiceless protest.  She assured Lucky that there was nothing wrong with him being a former stormtrooper, disappearing with him down the hall. For a moment, Han was left there, staring after them in a sort of numb shock, before someone else decided to poke their head in on the balcony.  The strangely colored zabrak looked at him, as if silently judging him, before he shook his head, using his cane to hobble off down the hall.

Han finally let out a huff at that, shaking his head in irritation.  Great, now who the hell was that?!

~.oOOo.~

The  _ Ark Angel  _ was definitely the kind of ship Danres felt the most comfortable on.  It reminded her a lot of the ships she drifted between before settling in with the Rebellion, and had just the right level of wear and tear going on that she could pretend she had been traveling in it for years.  Vader’s Nubian was nice, and so was Luke’s ship, but nothing could beat that lived-in feel of a rogue’s ship.

Aphra even had her feet propped up on the console as they sailed through hyperspace, relaxed despite the load of credits they were currently carrying.  She was not kidding when she said her contact’s price was steep; they had loaded up a good sized case with as many credits as they could stuff in it, and she still was not even sure that was enough.  The staggering part was they still had so much more, even though they were using an uncomfortably large chunk of it just for a person Danres still was not sure would be entirely trustworthy.

She glanced over at her, and Aphra noticed, raising an eyebrow.

“What?  Still doubting this guy?” she asked, waving a hand.  “Don’t worry; he probably doesn’t actually know the codes, but he’s definitely going to know what base they’re being stored on.”

Danres could not help but look doubtful, and Aphra sat up straighter in her seat, flashing a big smile.

“Don’t  _ worry,”  _ she insisted.  “I’ve worked with this guy plenty of times before.  His info is good, even if his price is steep.”

Danres let out a faint snort; yeah, she heard something similar to that before.  In fact, the last time she did, her team ended up dead and insane. She shook her head, taking out her blaster and making sure it had a full charge, just in case.

“Why are you so enthusiastic about all this?” she asked finally, peering over at Aphra.  “You’re not really on either side of this; why not just run?”

“Are you kidding?” Aphra replied, letting out a laugh as she lounged back in her chair.  “How many times have I said I was an archaeologist? You know how many people like me would  _ kill  _ for the chance to make history like this?”

Danres paused, raising an eyebrow.  “You… actually have a doctorate?”

Aphra’s expression faltered at that, and for a moment an almost haunted look came to her eyes, before she shook it off.  That smile of hers was back quickly, especially so as she tossed Danres a wink.

“That would be where the ‘rogue’ part comes in,” she replied.  Danres did not buy the act for a second, but she did not want to call her out on it right now, instead filing the information away for later.

“What about you, hunh?” Aphra continued.  “What motivates a Separatist-turned-Rebel to throw in with Vader?”

Danres held her gaze a moment, before she turned away, looking down at her hands.  Her eyes were immediately distracted by an old scar on her palm, running from a fingertip all the way to just above her wrist.

“Like I said, I suspected for a while that Palpatine was the main issue,” she said softly.  “Papa would rant a lot about how no one in the Republic really cared, that the chancellor was just a puppet.  Then the war really started, and we were seeing the chancellor as less a puppet and more a warmonger. We were happy to hide behind the droids, let them fight the clones as Count Dooku and the rest of the council protected us.”

Danres fell quiet, and Aphra did not even have a quirky comment to give.

“Papa and my brothers… they just worked in a simple food processing factory,” she continued softly, running her fingers over the scar.  “The clones… they had intel saying it was a droid production plant. They leveled it. They didn’t even check to see if there were civilians inside.”

Danres let out a breath, running her hands over her face.  There were times she could still hear the screams, still hear her littlest brother crying as her mother yelled at her to stop, stop trying to dig through the rubble, stop trying to find the bodies.  It was especially bad every Empire Day, when the old bastard’s face was plastered everywhere and she just wanted to shoot every holoprojector playing the celebration on Coruscant.

“The news from the Republic kept lauding it as a victory, but we all knew better,” she said softly.  “We knew it wasn’t a mistake. We knew it was meant for us to make sure we ‘knew’ we were less than nothing before the Grand Army of the Republic.  Palpatine declaring himself Emperor a few months later just proved it, and proved how helpless we were.”

She leaned back in her seat, waving a hand.

“This?  After what Luke told us about what he sensed, plus what I went through?” she said.  “This is nothing compared to what I  _ really  _ want to do to that old bastard, but it’ll be good enough.  It has to be good enough.”

She was well aware of Aphra’s eyes on her for a long moment before she said something, and it started with a faint sigh.

“You all make my problems seem so small,” she murmured.  “I almost feel selfish compared to you guys.”

Danres paused, before offering her a small smile.

“No problem makes you look selfish if it’s something that affects you,” she replied, leaning over to nudge against her.  Aphra flashed a grin, before a chime went off on the console. She flopped herself into her seat properly, reaching for the hyperspace lever.

“Alright, time to get to work,” she said, pulling the  _ Ark Angel  _ back into real space.

Danres had never been to Anthan Prime, so she did not expect the swirl of clouds before them, crackling with energy.  She jumped, clutching to the arms of her seat, but Aphra quickly showed she had nothing to worry about. The archaeologist guided her clunky ship with expert precision, avoiding the storm clouds easily and coming up on the installation beyond.  The top was a beautiful collection of tall spires and glittering lights, resting on a dome and tapering down to a sharp point full of vent shafts and drive systems. Danres could not help but lean a little closer to the viewport as they approached, a small smile coming to her face.

“Anthan Prime, this is  _ Ark Angel,  _ requesting clearance for docking,” Aphra announced over the com, an almost bored tone to her voice, though she did look amused at Danres’ reaction to the place.

An almost  _ snooty  _ voice answered after a moment, “I believe a ship such as yours will require the tradesman’s entrance.”

“How rude.  Let’s kill them all.”

Danres let out a yelp at the sudden voice, whirling around in her seat to glare daggers at Triple Zero.  The psycho protocol droid was standing too close for her liking, and she sunk into her seat to put a little extra distance between them.

“When did you get in here?!” she demanded.

“Why, since you explained where your motivations came from, of course,” he replied.  “It’s not my fault you were too caught up in your self pity and mental vengeance theater to hear my approach.”

Danres let out a groan, planting a hand over her face as Aphra let out a cackle.  She peered over at her, privately wondering why she put up with the murder droid. He was  _ clearly  _ dangerous, something she swore the droid was programmed to prove at every opportunity.  Maybe Aphra had just been that lonely before they all showed up; maybe this was like a family for her, and murder droids just happened to be part of it.

It was starting to feel that way for Danres at any rate, crazy droids, dark lords, and all.

~.oOOo.~

The Spire at Anthan Prime was a resort for the super rich… at least at the top of it.  Aphra had never been up there before; most of her dealings fell under “tradesman”, if they could be called that.  At least here she never had to leave in the midst of a shoot out; even the seediest of people were too classy for that kind of thing here.

There was always a first time for everything.

She left the droids in the gambling hall with strict orders not to get caught killing anyone that did not deserve it (which she admitted, she probably should have been more specific, given Triple Zero’s loose definition of “deserved it”), before heading further inside with Danres at her side.  She was glad it was her with her too, and not Luke or Tanbris; she was pretty sure those two would be staring around like little kids. Plus, well… she was better to look at anyway; not as cute as the kid, but damn easy on the eyes.

The door to the private lounges opened on their approach, revealing a luxurious sitting room.  Chairs were set out in front of a roaring fireplace — with real wood burning, if the mesquite smell was any clue.  Her contact was already occupying one of those chairs, and Aphra’s face broke out into a grin.

“Ante!  Long time no see!”

The Givin in question raised what passed for an eyebrow on his skull-like head, those fathomless dark eyes of his staring at her in mild amusement.

“That’s  _ The  _ Ante,” he corrected her.  “It’s been some time since you’ve been able to afford my prices, Doctor Aphra.”

Aphra let out a faint hum, plopping down in one of the chairs.  Danres was not that far behind her, hauling over a case full of their “ill-gotten” gains, before flopping tiredly into a seat.  The Ante peered at it curiously, before leaning back in his chair.

“You must be desperate.”

“Not really,” Aphra replied dismissively.  “I just know what I’m looking for has a heavy price tag attached.”

A smile came to that skull-like face, and Aphra did not miss it when Danres shuddered.

“Let me guess…” he began, pressing the tips of his fingers together.  “The identity of the Rebel that destroyed the Death Star?”

“Ohhhh… tempting,” Aphra replied, noting that Danres managed to keep herself from reacting to that one.  “Nah, what we’re looking for is a little harder to get a hold of: the Rebel’s Fulcrum codes.”

“You know I don’t have that, Aphra,” The Ante replied, looking like he would have rolled his eyes if he had irises.  “The Rebels guard those codes with their lives.”

“I  _ do  _ know that, Ante,” Aphra replied, “but I also know you know what base the Rebellion’s governing intelligence keeps them on, and I’ve got the money to cover being told the location.”

She motioned to Danres, who very nearly groaned as she reached for the container again.  With a grunt, she hauled it up onto the table between them, the top popping open just enough for the Givin to see inside.  He leaned forward, a bemused smile on his face as he took in the container literally stuffed to near bursting with Imperial credits.

“Well then…” he began.  “I suppose the mystery as to who stole the Son-Tuul pirates captured fortune has been solved…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aphra replied, stifling a yawn.  “In fact, I trust your integrity so much, I’ll let you keep the change.”

The Ante studied her for a long moment, before he let out an amused noise, reaching over to close the lid.

“The Rebels are setting up base on an old fueling station on Vrogas Vas.  You’ll find governing intel — and your codes — there.”

Danres let out a faint sound of relief as a grin spread over Aphra’s face.

“You’re the best, Ante,” she said, moving to stand… just as an alarm sounded, near deafening in the small sitting room.  Her immediate thought was Triple Zero and BT had done something she was going to end up regretting, until a voice came on the intercom announcing that Imperials were raiding the place.  Aphra’s eyes widened, exchanging a look with Danres. Even if Vader was the one leading the raid, they needed to move, and  _ fast. _

~.oOOo.~

Vader was starting to suspect that nothing on his decided path was going to go easy.

This was supposed to be a simple raid; the gambling den was full of cowards and fools, none of which would raise a blaster to an Imperial strike force.  But  _ someone  _ had, resulting in a massive, chaotic shootout.  Quite a few people were dead already, and he casually stepped over the remains of a bith as he approached Inspector Thanoth.  His “guardian” turned, motioning him over to a well dressed Givin, standing in the doorway to a records room with his hands raised.  He stabbed a finger toward the alien as he came to a stop, making clear the threat behind the gesture.

“I am not in the mood for resistance, criminal,” he growled.

“And I will give you none,” the Givin replied.  “I am The Ante, and I wish to help.”

He stood aside, leaving his hands up as he revealed the computers in the room behind him were all smoking, completely demolished.

“My records are all destroyed,” he explained. “This is part of the service I offer: the records will never be compromised.”

The Ante lowered his hands slowly, well establishing that he meant no harm to either of them.  Vader only allowed it because he sensed the skull-faced alien was no threat… at least physically.

“However, my own knowledge is considerable,” The Ante continued.  “As a show of good faith, I can tell you the Plasma Devils are located on the Thanteen Substrata on Anthan One.  I understand they have been giving the Empire trouble as of late.”

Thanoth let out a faint hum, exchanging a glace with Vader.  He did not outwardly react, at least not enough that it would be picked up through his mask, but the information brought a pleased smile to his face.  The mission to find the Plasma Devils had been given to Cylo’s twin abominations, and the two of them had been making a point to cut a bloody swath through the system to establish themselves before seeking the pirates out.  Obtaining the information so easily was almost laughable, but at the same time, also irritating. If The Ante had this kind of information and was willing to blab it out, then…

“Our needs are simpler than that,” Thanoth replied.  “The Son-Tuul Pride’s treasures were stolen. We’re looking for the party responsible.”

Vader could  _ feel  _ the Force mocking his bad luck, even before the Givin tilted his head in a show of amusement.

“Then you’ll never believe your luck,” he said, lifting a hand to point into the chaotic crowd.  “She’s right there.”

Vader did not need to turn around, but he did anyway, wanting to actually  _ groan  _ in exasperation for the first time in ages.  Of course Aphra was right there, ducking and weaving around blaster bolts and people, trying to keep that pilot’s cap of hers low in a vain effort to cover her face.  Danres was at her back, providing cover and, he noted, trying not to actually fatally injure any of the troopers. He appreciated the thought; they never knew where they would find an ally in the future, and the troops were more likely to remain loyal to a military commander than the Emperor.  He would need to find a way to thank her for her foresight later; Aphra, however…

He heard Thanoth asking for her name, and knew the Givin would answer truthfully.  He was too dangerous to leave alive, so when he sensed a blast about to hit a Mon Calamarian in front of them, he called on the Force, nudging the fish-like alien out of the way just enough for the blast to miss, hitting The Ante instead, killing him instantly.

Thanoth knelt beside the corpse after it fell, letting out a disappointed noise.

“A shame, he could have told us so much more,” he murmured, looking like he was offering a small prayer for the Givin before he stood again.  “We have out target; we will take her before she can get to her ship.”

The inspector motioned to the troops, the ones not outright trying to contain the crowd gathering by him quickly.  Vader watched dispassionately as they started off after the two women, already knowing they would not be able to catch up with them.  They, like so many others like them, had that kind of Force-blessed “luck” that seemed to favor fools, at least when it came to being pursued by “normal” individuals.

Vader turned after a moment, cape sweeping about his legs as he headed in the opposite direction of his troops, knowing exactly where that “luck” of theirs would take them.

~.oOOo.~

Danres felt her lungs burning and her heart about ready to beat itself out of her chest.  It had been awhile since she had to run for her life with stormtroopers in pursuit; frankly she had hoped working for Vader meant she never would have to deal with that again.  Maybe it was because she was with Aphra right now; she seemed to attract trouble like a magnet.

“Beetee! Close the blast door in the approach corridor!” she was shouting into her comlink as where they docked the  _ Ark Angel  _ came into view.  As ordered, the blast door started close… unfortunately it was the one in  _ front  _ of them.

“Not  _ that  _ one!” Aphra shouted, but Danres was already throwing herself to the ground, rolling until she was clear of the door.  The archaeologist was just behind her, sliding underneath  _ just  _ before the door thumped closed.  Her blaster was up in the next moment, shooting the controls in an effort to delay the troops from reaching them.

They exchanged looks, pausing just long enough for breath, before they were both back on their feet, running down the hall.

“Triple Zero, we’re incoming,” Aphra announced into her comlink.  “Get the ship ready to—”

They reached the end of the hall, just in time to see the door open on its own, Vader’s imposing figure blocking the way to freedom.  Danres skidded to a stop, just as Aphra nearly crashed into him, feeling her breath come up short. She was starting to pick up on his moods, and right now he seemed truly  _ menacing,  _ and it did not help when he ignited his lightsaber in the next moment.

“Do not struggle, “ was the only warning they got before he raised a fist, and Aphra was suddenly lifted in the air, her hands going for her neck.  Danres took a step back, her eyes widening, the immediate thought that he was turning on them entering her head… at least, until she noticed that Aphra really did not seem to be having trouble breathing.  It was then that Danres saw the docking bay camera just over Vader’s shoulder, the only one that still seemed to be functioning.

Her blaster came up in the next moment, firing off a shot at Vader.  He easily deflected it, the bolt shooting off over her shoulder. A small explosion told her there must have been a camera working behind her as well, so she fired again.  That deflected shot went wide, hitting the camera in the docking bay.

Aphra was lowered back to the ground in the next moment, relief washing over her face.  She bent over, clutching at her knees and fighting to keep herself from shaking.

“M-more warning than th-that next time, p-please…!” she gasped out.  She took a moment more to collect herself before lifting her head, peering up at him.  “W-we’ve got the base’s location. As soon as we get to the rendezvous, we can get a plan going.”

Vader seemed pleased by that, but that did not keep him from jabbing a finger in her face.

_ “Try  _ to get there without drawing further attention,” he warned.  “Your source already sold you out.”

Aphra swore loudly as Danres tried and failed not to roll her eyes.  She saw  _ that  _ coming from a mile away.  Vader seemed to think so as well, if the way he appeared to be  _ staring  _ at Aphra was any indication, like he was judging her.  He finally stepped aside after a moment, allowing them to pass.  Aphra was more than happy to get going, almost like if she did not, she thought Vader would strangle her for real.  Danres moved to follow her, but she paused, glancing up at him as if checking to see if  _ he  _ was okay.  She had no  _ reason  _ to; Vader could certainly take care of himself, but she felt it necessary.  After all, Luke took crazy risks; he had to get that from  _ somewhere. _

“Be mindful,” Vader warned softly.  “Inspector Thanoth is a keeper that I will not be able to easily discourage.  He will pursue you.”

“Could he be an ally?” she asked, getting Vader to incline his head.

“Possibly.  Time will tell.”

Danres nodded at that, before hurrying after Aphra.  She could feel his eyes on her back until she made it to the boarding ramp, where she heard a loud rumbling coming from his direction.  She turned back, just in time to see him use the Force to make the ceiling come down on top of him.

Danres let out an annoyed noise.  Yeah, Luke  _ definitely  _ got his recklessness from  _ someone. _

~.oOOo.~

TIE fighters were on their tail the moment they took off, not that Aphra was particularly surprised by this.  Going for the clear shot into space was not really viable; the  _ Ark Angel  _ was pretty fast, but not fast enough to outfly a TIE.  At least she had someone to man the guns for once, even if Danres was just firing what amounted to warning shots.  It was still a nice change from the usual route of flying dirty and hoping her luck held out.

Not that was not still going to fly dirty.

“Are you  _ seriously  _ flying into these storm clouds?!” Danres shouted, clinging to the firing controls as lightning arced past the viewport.

“Sure am!” Aphra replied flippantly.  “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

“Pretty likely to get us killed, I assume you mean,” Triple Zero’s voice came from somewhere behind them.  BT blatted something as well, drawing a rude noise out of Danres.

“Yes, stars forbid you guys not be able to wreak havoc on the galaxy,” she grumbled.

The ship lurched violently from turbulence, leaving Danres scrambling to hold onto the gunnery controls as Aphra let out an excited woop.  This was exciting, but they definitely needed to get out of this storm; if the TIEs did not get them, the lightning definitely would. She grit her teeth, pulling them up above the clouds…

Right into an Interdictor-class Imperial cruiser and a whole fleet of TIE fighters.

“Not this way!” Aphra yelled as the others damn near screamed, sending the  _ Ark Angel  _ into a dive that brought her back under the cloud cover.  A blast of lightning came uncomfortably close to the ship a moment later, enough that some of the electronics flickered.  Danres let out a yelp as the guns went offline for a split second, long enough to force a reboot cycle.

“We’re not going to last out here, Aphra,” she pointed out, smacking the controls as if that would help them reboot faster.  “We need to get around them; maybe slingshot around the Spire?”

“No good;  _ Ark Angel  _ isn’t built for the speed we’d need,” Aphra replied, gritting her teeth as she maneuvered around blasts of lightning.  “They’ll be on us before we get to the other side. We just gotta hope Vader finds an excuse to retreat.”

No sooner did she say that, did something on her radar catch her eye.  Some of the TIE fighters above them had disappeared, and a closer look showed they were boarding the cruiser.  She let out an excited noise.

“Look, see!  They’re leaving!” she exclaimed.  “We get to live!”

Danres had just sunk into her seat in relief when Aphra caught Triple Zero out of the corner of her eye, leaning slightly toward them.

“For now, Mistress Aphra.”

~.oOOo.~

The Plasma Devils were a Rebel troop.

Convincing Thanoth that they should go after them instead of continuing to pursue Aphra had been easier than Vader could have hoped.  The Inspector bought the excuse of the Plasma Devils being the greater threat easily — almost  _ too  _ easily — and disengaged, leaving them to hunt down the “pirates” at their base.  It did not take him long to realize they were not really pirates; the moment he saw an X-wing had been more than enough explanation as to why they were striking out at Imperial shipments.  He killed them all, of course — it was expected of him — but he could not help but feel every swing of his lightsaber was only making his daughter hate him more and more.

Not that she did not have every reason to hate him already.

It was barely a day later that he was tossing the helmets of the Plasma Devils’ pilots at the feet of  _ Grand General  _ Tagge, an irritated rumble escaping from him as he announced who they belonged to.  Tagge stared down at them, a faint twitch coming to his lips as Voidgazer peered over his shoulder.  The twins were there as well, and when Tagge failed to comment, Morit was more than happy to.

“That was  _ not  _ your mission!” he snapped.

“No, it was  _ yours,”  _ Thanoth snapped back, not even flinching at the glare the younger man was giving him.  “You should be thankful, now you’re free to slaughter other sources of information.”

Morit had his lightsaber in hand in the next moment, but he did not have the chance to use it.  Vader pointedly stepped between him and Thanoth, glaring down at him from behind his mask. For a moment, Morit seemed as if he would strike anyway, before Tagge finally spoke up.

“Enough, Morit,” he said, sounding tired.  “Vader, I’m not pleased you went against orders, but at least you were able to accomplish  _ something.” _

Tagge turned then, and it was at that moment Vader noticed Karbin was present as well.  With all the abominations in one area, it was hard to pick one out from the other, or even sense them properly.  He had a sinking suspicion that was done on purpose.

“And what of you, Karbin?” he asked.  “Have you found the Rebel pilot that destroyed the Death Star?”

“Of course I have,” he replied gruffly.  “This pointless meeting is keeping me from capturing her.”

“Her?” Voidgazer spoke up, an almost amused smile on her face.  “Who is she?”

Karbin shot her an irritated look.  “You can find out when I deliver her head to the Emperor.”

Like that would actually happen; Leia was more likely to filet the fish-like alien than he was to kill her.  Still, Vader could not help the spike of worry and rage that hit him in the chest; that was his  _ daughter  _ he was talking about!  He turned on his heel, stalking off the bridge of Tagge’s Star Destroyer to keep himself from letting his anger out by strangling Karbin.  It took him a moment to realize Thanoth was on his heels, struggling to keep up with him, and he slowed his pace enough for the aging gentleman to do so.

“I want to thank you, Lord Vader,” he began once he caught up.  “Very few commanding officers would come to the defense of a subordinate in such a way.”

“Your death would be pointless,” Vader replied dismissively.  “And I would not wish to give that abomination the satisfaction.”

Thanoth let out an amused noise, pausing beside Vader as he waited for the turbolift.  The two of them were silent a moment, before the elderly man let out a breath.

“...so you will be rendezvousing with our thief now, correct?”

Vader stiffened ever so slightly, but that seemed to be all Thanoth needed.  The inspector let out an amused noise, shaking his head.

“Forgive me for finding this amusing, my lord,” he replied.  “You are not as subtle as you think you are. Especially if you expect me to believe two normal women successfully managed to catch  _ you  _ off guard enough to drop the ceiling on you.”

Vader let out a huff that his vocoder refused to interpret, folding his arms over his chest like a reprimanded child.  It only drew another chuckle out of Thanoth as the man shook his head.

“Lord Vader, I truly believe your actions have only the interests of the Empire behind them,” he began, “And I believe those interests are in line with the  _ people;  _ far more than the Emperor’s.”

Vader paused at that, turning his head just enough so that he could peer down at Thanoth through the lenses of his mask.  It was a moment before the inspector turned his gaze up at him, a curious look on his face.

“You seemed… concerned, about that Rebel pilot,” he murmured.  “You know who she is already.”

Vader did not need to answer; he knew it was not a question.

“I have an agent keeping an eye on her,” he finally said.  “Her importance cannot be properly stated, but  _ he  _ is unreliable.  If the bounty on her head increases once the true scope of her actions comes to light, I will not be able to keep a hold on him.”

Thanoth let out a knowing noise, just as the turbolift arrived.

“I will devote my energies to that,” he replied as Vader entered the lift.  “Karbin said she’s on Vrogas Vas.”

Vader nodded briefly as the doors slid shut.

~.oOOo.~

After they arrived at the rendezvous point and introduced Kreel, Luke had retreated to a quieter section of the cave, putting some distance between himself and the others as they waited for his father to arrive.  The entire trip back to Anthan 13, his mind had been dwelling on what he did to Grakkus. It had been so easy to call on his anger, to use it to brutally murder the Hutt. It did not bother him that he killed him — far from it — but the fact that he was not  _ satisfied  _ with just killing him… that terrified him.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not realize he had company until he turned around.  Luke nearly jumped as he became aware of his father’s breathing at the same time, surprise on his face, but he did not relax.  He could tell he had a lecture coming his way, even before either of them said anything.

“Agent Kreel informed me of what happened,” Vader began, hooking his thumbs in his belt.  “You allowed yourself to be captured, used your real name while in the middle of enemy territory, set loose a creature upon a civilian population, and risked the life of yourself and the man you were sent to recover just for the sake of confiscating a number of contraband relics.”

Luke flinched, muttering about Kreel being a loud bucket under his breath.  Despite the list of his mistakes, however, his father seemed more amused than upset, shifting his stance slightly.

“Yet your thoughts are not troubled by that, my son,” he called him out, and Luke felt his shoulders slump, peering up at the Dark Lord with a pensive look on his face.  Vader said nothing, allowing him all the time he needed to prepare himself to explain.

“I… never got to see a picture of you, before…” he began, waving to his father’s armor as he trailed off.  “When Grakkus destroyed that holocron… I was so angry, angry at him for doing it, angry at myself for not being able to stop him, that… that I…”

Luke swallowed painfully, knowing exactly what he  _ wanted  _ to do.

“I could have slaughtered everyone in that arena, and it still wouldn’t have been enough to satisfy the anger I felt.”

Vader was still a moment, before he shifted, reaching for Luke.  He pulled him close, turning and sitting them both down on a nearby boulder.

“Did your uncle tell you what became of your grandmother?” he asked softly.  Luke looked up at that, surprised.

“Grandma Shmi?” he asked, earning himself a nod.  “Uncle Owen said she had been killed by Tusken Raiders.”

Vader nodded again at that.  “When she died in my arms, I killed every last one of them in retaliation.  There was nothing left of the tribe by the time I was done, and even  _ that  _ had not been enough.”

He reached up, a hand gently going to Luke’s head, threading his fingers through his hair.  He leaned toward his father, resting comfortably against him.

“You were able to stop, because you knew that the Hutt was the only one that warranted your hatred,” Vader continued.  “You are a stronger, more patient man than I am.”

Silence hung between them, and Luke distinctly  _ felt  _ the unspoken promise that he got it from his mother.  He let out a breath, closing his eyes and just listening to the rhythmic sound of his father’s breathing, feeling it calming him better than meditation ever could.

“What the Jedi didn’t understand,” Vader began after a moment, “what you  _ do  _ understand, is our emotions are what drive us.  Learning how to  _ express  _ those emotions safely is much more productive than how to contain them.”

A faint smile finally came to Luke’s face at that, and he found himself snuggling a little closer to his father’s chest, mindful of his control box.  He could feel the smile behind the mask as he held him close, one hand idly playing with his too long hair.

“You have a lot to learn still, young one,” he murmured, “but I feel you will be the greatest of all Force users.”


	19. The Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meant to add this last night, but I forgot (this is what happens when you update instead of sleep). Credit for this chapter goes to my good friend, Cat, who when presented with the options of how to handle this next part, went full on Palpatine when the cliffhanger was suggested without even listening to the other options.

Luke had a bad feeling about this mission the moment they all separated.  Aphra was alone with the droids on the  _ Ark Angel,  _ keeping tabs from her vantage point behind one of Vrogas Vas’ moons, and also using her encryption protocols to serve as their communications hub.  Black Krrsantan was with her in his own ship, monitoring and collecting data on the planet before them. Tanbris, Danres, and Kreel were in the  _ Windsor  _ with Luke; he was responsible for dropping them off planetside so they could sneak into the Rebel base to get the codes.  Lastly, his father had taken his starfighter separately, intending to serve as a distraction while they accomplished their mission, for no one would ignore Darth Vader showing up.

It sounded like one of his plans, so he already knew something was going to go wrong.

“We’re in position,” he announced once they were settled in their spot within visual of Aphra and Krrsantan, waiting for the opportunity to slip onto the planet.

“Maintain position until you have a clear opportunity to land,” his father’s voice came over the com, distorted slightly from still being in hyperspace.

“Yes, my lord,” Luke replied, only to get a scoff from Aphra’s end of the line.

“Really?  We’re still going with this act?” she asked.  “Just because we’re plus two new guys?”

Krrsantan let out a confused woof as Luke felt like his eyes were going to roll out of his head.

“Aphra, we don’t know who could be listening in,” he reminded.  “Cut com chatter until we’re ready.”

He caught a faint grumble of how rude it was not to trust her security protocols before the line fell quiet.  The cut in chatter did not keep him from feeling the approval of his command coming from his father, and Luke felt his cheeks warm.  Maybe that vision of him standing on the bridge of a Star Destroyer was not as daunting as he originally thought…

“Coming out of hyperspace,” Vader announced, and Luke stretched his feelings out, sensing the moment his father came back into real space, followed by… surprise? Luke frowned, sitting up properly in his seat.

“My lord, what’s wrong?” he asked, only to feel annoyance, a bit of anger, regret, and then finally steely determination.  None of that answered his question. “Lord Vader?”

“They were on maneuvers,” his father finally answered.  “They were not expecting me.”

“Who?  Who wasn’t expecting you?” Aphra’s voice cut in.

“The three squadrons of Rebel starfighters I see before me,” Vader answered, like  _ three dozen starfighters  _ against one lone TIE fighter was the least terrifying thing for a pilot to encounter.  Luke felt his stomach bottom out, terror and worry creeping up his spine. Sure, Vader’s starfighter was better equipped than the average TIE, and Vader himself was far from the average pilot, but that was still thirty-six fighters against  _ one. _

“Lord Vader, we need to abort,” he pointed out.  “That’s too much for one pilot, even you!”

“I’m with Luke,” Aphra chimed in as Krrsantan growled in agreement.  “We need to run!”

“I am… of… Sith,” Vader replied, his end of the line crackling with static.   _ “They…  _ should be running.”

“Lord Vader?!” Luke shouted, only to get static in return.  A hollow feeling opened up in his chest; they had to be jamming his communications, and no sooner did the thought occur to him, the space near the muddy grey planet that was Vrogas Vas lit up red.  He saw smatterings of green mixed in, showing his father was engaging instead of retreating.

“Luke, what do we do?” Aphra asked, her voice soft, and it was hard to miss how worried she was.

“We…” he began, pausing to swallow past the lump in his throat.  “We stick to the plan. But try to get our communications with him back.”

“On it.”

Luke forced himself to breathe, stretching out with his senses again.  He could feel that determination flood his senses, so much so that he almost missed the undercurrent of regret that went with it.  They knew there would be Rebel casualties, there was no way they were going to avoid that, though if his father had  _ retreated  _ like he said, it would not have been this high.  They could have found the codes again, even if it would have taken them longer!

And he called  _ him  _ reckless!

Something suddenly  _ flared  _ brilliantly in the Force, so much so that Luke winced in pain, a hand going to his head.  It took him a moment to notice that familiar echoing sensation, and he could feel his stomach hit his shoe.  He understood what that  _ was  _ now; who it was coming from and  _ why  _ it happened, and sensing it now made his chest tighten with concern.

Especially when it suddenly stopped.

Especially when he picked up his father’s fear in response.

“Couldn’t get coms back, but I hacked into the Rebel lines,” Aphra suddenly chimed in.  “Bringing it up now.”

Static hissed in Luke’s ears, before an unfamiliar voice cut through, saying words that just made that empty feeling even worse.

“Vader down.  I repeat, Darth Vader has been shot down over Vrogas Vas.”

~.oOOo.~

“Did you say  _ Vader?” _

Han was staring at General Syndulla like she was out of her twin tailed mind.  Given what she had just told him, he did not think she would fault him for it, though.  Darth Vader had suddenly attacked the new Alliance base while the fighter squads there had been doing practice maneuvers, then proceeded to shoot down two entire squadrons before he was taken down.  Now everyone in the small part of the fleet he was travelling with was mobilizing, getting ready to back up the ground forces they had there to make sure Vader was dead or captured.

He already knew that was not going to work.

“They do know this is the guy that’s almost killed us every chance he’s gotten, right?” he asked, running to keep up with Hera.  “They won’t be able to do a damn thing with just normal people!”

“I know that, Han, more than you realize,” Hera replied.  “But we can’t ignore this opportunity. If Vader was injured when he was taken down, we may have a chance.”

“Look, the only person I know that could have a shot at going toe to toe with him is—”

Han cut himself off, stopping dead in his tracks, realization nearly bowling him over.  Hera paused herself, turning toward him, and it did not take her very long to realize where his mind went, if the sympathetic look that came to her face was any indication.

“...Red Squad only lost one fighter,” she said softly.  “I’m sorry, Han.”

Han stared at her for a long moment, a heavy feeling settling in his gut that he could not put into words.  He was shoving past Hera the next moment, storming into the docking bay where the  _ Falcon  _ was resting.

“Chewie, get her ready for take off!” he shouted over the bustle of activity around them.  Chewie lifted his head from what he was working on at the top turret gun, letting out a huff, followed by an almost accusatory growl.

“Yeah, buddy; we’re doing something stupid.  Get to it!”

Hera finally caught up to him, sparing Chewie a glance, before she turned her attention to Han.

“Solo, Vader is our priority,” she pointed out.  “Don’t forget that.”

That heavy feeling suddenly shot up to his throat, and Han whirled on her, pointing a finger in her face.

“Vader is  _ your  _ priority, sister.  Not  _ mine.” _

~.oOOo.~

This certainly was  _ not  _ going as planned.

It was not the first time Vader ever had to crash a fighter, and the TIE X-1 Advanced that was his ship of choice was capable of taking the punishment.  The ship was smoking, largely from the heat of the barely controlled re-entry he had just managed to survive, but with a bit of stubborn dedication, the ship would fly again.

Unfortunately, he did not have the time for that.  The Rebels were certainly dedicated to ensuring he was destroyed, almost from the moment he appeared before them.  No doubt his daughter had informed them of what they were up against before  _ ramming her ship  _ into his.  He would have been proud of her bold determination if it was not so  _ reckless. _

Small wonder where either of his children got it from.

A roar came from overhead, and he turned his gaze upward, spying three Y-wing bombers.  He knew they saw him, and there was not a doubt in his mind they would drop their payload on him. Were he capable of it, he may well have let out a sigh.

Those codes better be on this planet…

~.oOOo.~

That definitely had not been one of her better ideas.

Leia gazed mournfully on the remains of her X-wing, a tight feeling in her gut.  The ship would never fly again, considering both wings and engines on the port side were completely sheared off, not to mention the fact she had to cut her way out of the cockpit.  Losing even one starfighter was always bad for the Alliance, but losing  _ this  _ one in particular would be a heavy, demoralizing blow to the other pilots.

“Well, guess we can give credit to the Empire for taking out the ship that shot down the Death Star,” she muttered, getting a mournful trill from R2 in return.  She let out a sigh, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on his dome, before turning away from the ship. Her body ached from slamming against the crash webbing of the pilot’s chair, but she was certain the worst injury she was suffering was a few bruises.  R2 had not even been damaged, which was amazing considering the state of the ship. The little droid must have been able to control their descent, because she was sure she had passed out from the sudden impact; ramming full speed into another starfighter tended to have that result.

R2 let out a faint boop, and Leia found her attention drawn to the horizon, where she could just barely make out the outline of approaching Y-wing bombers.

“No… I’m certain if we survived, so did Vader,” she answered.

As if in reply, the Y-wings suddenly exploded, lighting up the hazy sky.  R2 let out an alarmed screech, rocking back and forth on his legs.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Leia muttered, really wanting to let out a curse that would have made Han proud.  What was her father  _ doing? _

~.oOOo.~

Stick to the plan.

Luke never imagined actually following his own orders would be the hardest thing he had to do.  Still, he dropped off the others with him after slipping right under the Rebels’ noses, before retreating to their agreed rendezvous point.  Now all he had to do was sit and wait. After all, they were fully expected to have the Rebels hot on their heels on the way out, and he was the second best pilot in their group.  It was important for him to stay out of harm’s way so he could safely get them out of there.

Needless to say, it did not take long for the waiting and the anxious worrying to get to him.

Luke forced himself to breathe, to focus.  He was worried about his father, about the anxiety and regret clawing at him.  This was not winning them any favors, yet they both knew that if Darth Vader acted as anything less than a monster, it would raise eyebrows that needed to be kept down.  The Emperor especially would question it, and they could not have that.

He could also sense  _ her  _ here; picking up on her fears and anxiety was just as easy, even if she felt different somehow.  She was stronger; definitely more trained and more experienced with the Force than he was. He could not help but feel a little jealous; maybe in a different life they could have learned from each other.  As things stood now…

The roar of a ship overhead dragged him out of his thoughts, making him jump.  The  _ Windsor  _ was well hidden, so he did not worry about being caught, but he could not help but peer nervously up through the cockpit viewport.  A deep, unsettling feeling of cold washed over him as he took in the familiar sight of a YT-1300 Corellian freighter, and he did not  _ need  _ the Force to  _ know  _ it was the same ship that had been captured on the Death Star.

The same ship that…

“Deevee!” he called, getting a soft, curious boop from somewhere in the ship behind him.  He turned from the viewport, stalking toward the boarding ramp. “Stay with the ship.”

He heard the droid let out an alarmed trill, but he did not stay long enough for the astromech to try and talk him out of it.

~.oOOo.~

Ohhhh… this had been a bad plan.

Aphra was frantically plugging away at her communications console, trying every trick she knew to break through the Rebels’ jamming.  Nothing she had was working, however, and it was getting to be a fight not to panic. For a ragtag group of freedom fighters, they had some  _ really  _ hot tech behind them if she could not break through their blocking signals.  The side-seat hacker she had growling in her ear did not help much either. Bless Santy’s furry heart, he did try; just she knew what she was doing!  Mostly.

“Yeah, yeah, I already tried that,” she grumbled right back at him.  “We’re completely blind up here; only way we— wait!”

Her screen was starting to light up green; something on the other side of the line was reverse engineering the jamming signal, reaching out to her.  The static suddenly snapped off, and a very clear droid trill came from the other end.

“Deevee! Am I glad to hear you, you smart little—”

DV-2 cut her off, beeping frantically.  Aphra’s eyes widened, mouth open to respond, when someone  _ else’s  _ voice cut her off.

“What do you  _ mean  _ Luke left the ship?!” Vader snarled, making Aphra wince.  Well, good to know that  _ all  _ of their communications were back up.  DV booped something that sounded distinctly sarcastic in answer, and she could almost feel the irritation on Vader’s side of the line without him even saying anything.

“Don’t worry, we’ll head down and drag him out of whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into now,” Aphra volunteered, already grabbing for the  _ Ark Angel _ ’s controls.

“No, maintain your position, and—”

Vader suddenly cut himself off, falling so quiet that for a moment Aphra thought the coms cut out again.  She was about to ask if he was still there, when he spoke again.

“Retrieve my son, Aphra,” he began.  “It seems I will be otherwise occupied.”

Aphra leaned back in her seat, glancing over to where Triple Zero and BT-1 had been standing, quietly observing.  Did Vader really have to make everything sound so damn ominous like that?

“We’re on our way,” she finally responded.  “Santy, get a fix on Luke’s last known location and plot out where he could have gone.”

The wookiee let out a growl of acknowledgement as she let out a breath.  Those two better not be getting themselves killed.

~.oOOo.~

Vader barely acknowledged Aphra’s response, his focus fixed on the individuals before him.  He had been making a slow march toward the base, intent on making it look like he was going to single-handedly take apart the whole installation before he backed off.  The chaos would have certainly given Danres and the others plenty of time to get the codes and get out. He did not expect much resistance unless Leia showed up.

He  _ certainly  _ did not expect the person standing with the Rebels before him.

The small group was no one of real note otherwise; the twi’lek woman he recognized as a high ranking combatant, but was too focused on the man half hunched over, leaning on a walking staff, to pay her much mind.  Of course, he recognized him; the red and black devil had haunted his dreams when he was younger, host of a number of half imagined, half prophetic dreams.

This damn man persisted with the same vigor as a cockroach.

“Maul,” he said shortly, the grip on his lightsaber tightening.  The zabrak just flashed a thin smile in response.

“Fancy seeing Sidious’ new toy out  _ here  _ of all places,” he finally replied after a moment, waving the twi’lek back.  “I thought he had you on a tighter leash than that.”

“Maul…” the woman began in warning as Vader’s anger spiked, dropping the temperature in the area a few degrees.  He merely waved her off again, pulling the end of his staff off, revealing a lightsaber emitter on the end. He tossed the fake staff piece to the twi’lek, who had to lower her blaster as she fumbled to catch it, shooting Maul’s back an annoyed look as he stepped forward.

For a moment, Maul just stood there, both hands on his double bladed saber as the Rebels with him slowly backed off.  They kept their blasters trained on Vader, though that was a useless gesture; they were beneath his notice on the worst of days.  Maul was the greater threat, despite his age and how much he had weakened in the Force. He was still a beacon of death and darkness, even if his intentions had shifted.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to enjoy this as much as I always imagined I would,” he said airily, and in the next moment, both blades were ignited and coming for Vader’s head.  He blocked almost carelessly, shoving his blade away with little effort, as if to put emphasis on how unimpressed he was by Maul’s power. Instead of continuing the attack, the zabrak backed off, stalking around him like a predator assessing its prey.  Vader could feel him trying to poke at his mind through the Force, and he swatted him away like an annoying fly, an irritable growl stuck in the back of his throat.

Maul struck out at him again, lightsaber whirling deftly, and Vader was forced to take a step back as he was put on the defensive, parrying the stream of attacks that followed.  For someone nearly twice his age, the old zabrak could still pack a punch, making him wonder just how much that staff piece was actually  _ needed. _

Maul suddenly slammed his lightsaber against his, forcing him into a lock that he actually had to struggle against.  The zabrak pushed him back, and Vader felt the heels of his boots scrabbling against the edge of the outcropping they stood on.

“Funny,” Maul hissed, keeping his voice low so the Rebels could not hear, “you’re not as  _ dark  _ as I thought you’d be.”

His face broke out into a less than kind sneer.

“You haven’t been a proper Sith for quite some time, have you?”

A growl escaped from Vader as he summoned up all his strength to shove the zabrak off of him.  Maul was sent fumbling back — actively protecting his midsection, Vader noticed in mild amusement — and he was quick to pursue him, his lightsaber poised to strike.  He found himself stopping quickly, however; something felt…  _ wrong,  _ a feeling only compacted when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.  Stormtroopers were approaching, their blasters leveled on not only the Rebels, but  _ him  _ as well.

“Those are not my troops…” he murmured, which meant…

Right.  Karbin. He forgot about him.

Without a second thought, Vader sprung forward, cutting down the nearest stormtrooper.  The others opened fire, and those that were not killed by their own blaster fire were forced to run for cover as the (likely confused) Rebels returned fire.  Maul was leaping into the fray the next moment, beheading a trooper while simultaneously reflecting a blaster shot away. He turned toward Vader, a knowing look on his face, before his gaze shifted toward something unseen in the distance.

Vader sensed it then: surprise, a hint of panic and fear, and growing irritation.  All of it coming from…

He turned swiftly, leaving the Rebels to deal with the stormtroopers as he headed off to where Karbin likely was.

~.oOOo.~

When she woke up that day, Leia had expected a few things to happen.  She expected to go on maneuvers, to help out in the docking bay, work on her ship with R2, and train with Maul.  She had not been expecting a fire fight with her father that led to two squadrons being annihilated, and she  _ definitely  _ did not expect to be confronted by a Mon Calamarian  _ cyborg.  _  It was not enough that this Karbin was terrifying on his own, either; apparently he needed to have four arms and four lightsabers.  Because  _ why not? _

He was fast too, and while Leia was small in comparison and could duck under most of his attacks, she could not get the upper hand on him.  She was pouring sweat from the exertion, her flight vest chafing her shoulders, and her boots feeling heavy with sand. Meanwhile this…  _ thing  _ did not seem capable of slowing down, not to mention something as mundane as feeling tired.

A flare of warning lit up in the Force, and she raised her longer lightsaber to block an attack aimed for her head.  She tried to get the shorter blade up, hoping to cut off an arm, but Karbin blocked the attempt. A sneer came to the fish-like alien’s face as he raised his other two sabers, intent on spearing her through, when a blaster shot suddenly came out of nowhere, knocking Karbin off balance.  It gave her an opening, allowing her to summon up the Force and shove him away as hard as she could.

Leia stumbled back, giving herself a moment to catch her breath as she turned toward where the shot had come from.  Was that Lucky out there? It was hard for her to see for certain with all the dust and the haze, but if so, he was a damn good shot; no wonder he was a  _ former  _ stormtrooper.

Her attention snapped back to the Mon Calamari as he let out an irate noise, working a mechanical shoulder, before all four of his lightsabers came to life again.  Leia let out a stressed noise, taking up a fighting stance as he charged for her again. In the next moment, there was a familiar, biting feeling of cold, before a shadow passed over her, and a red blaze interrupted Karbin’s charge, stopping him like he ran up against a wall.  Really, he might have been better off if he had; Vader loomed over them both, dark and menacing, and everything that there was to fear from the Dark Side.

Except he had been afraid himself; afraid for  _ her,  _ and that was hard for Leia to process.

“Thanks?” she said, trying not to load  _ all  _ the sarcasm she had in her in that one word, and failing miserably.  Vader glanced down at her, a faint hint of amusement rolling off of him, before he shoved Karbin away.

“Leave,” he ordered, and it took her a moment to realize he was addressing her.  She opened her mouth, about ready to snap at him… but again, she sensed that fear, not aimed at her this time, but… A frown came to her face, a faint echo humming in tune with her through the Force, not unlike what happened over the Death Star.  She raised an eyebrow at him; he knew what that was, what was causing it and he could not tell her; not right now, anyway.

“...my agent may well kill your companions,” he offered in explanation, his voice so soft she could barely hear him.  “Do not let him.”

Leia did not know why he would be that concerned over one agent, but between the echo and the fear she could sense in him, she was not about to argue.  She nodded briefly, before running off in the direction that echo seemed to be coming from. She heard metal scraping on rock as Karbin moved to intercept her, followed by a hiss as Vader’s lightsaber snapped out, keeping him from getting close.

“You will not take my prize for yourself, Vader!” he snapped.  “I let slip the pilot that destroyed the Death Star was here for you to wipe out the Rebels in my way.  It’s only  _ convenient  _ that I be able to put you out of your misery as well, you withered old relic!”

Karbin shoved him off, causing Vader to stumble unsteadily on his feet.  Leia hesitated, glancing back at him in worry.

“I said  _ leave!”  _ he snapped at her, sparing a moment to  _ shove  _ her with the Force before the Mon Calamarian came at him again.  Leia stumbled, shooting him an annoyed look, before running off.

~.oOOo.~

Han stumbled on the uneven terrain as he made his way back to the  _ Falcon,  _ cursing under his breath.  They made it out to the middle of nowhere after a brief stop at the base that led to him not endearing himself with High Command in the slightest, to the point where Biggs and Wedge had to drag him back to his ship with the promise to help him look for Leia.  They had split up once they got out to the area they thought she went down, and he had just found her starfighter, mangled beyond repair, but no Leia. She was either able to walk away on her own, or someone dragged her off; there was no way to tell thanks to the wind blowing crap around everywhere, making footprints impossible to find.  That on top of all the Imperial troops all over the place had him  _ worried;  _ she may have been doing better after meeting that Maul guy, but she was still crazy and reckless.  Even if she was able to walk away, she could have run headlong into some kind of other trouble, like taking on a troop detachment by herself.  Or hell, even take  _ Vader  _ on by herself,  _ again. _

He paused once he ducked under the safety of his ship, running a hand over his face.  He needed to stop worrying — stop  _ caring  _ — so damn much.  It was going to drive him straight into trouble he would never be able to get out of.

...nevermind every time he thought of leaving, his mind would go right to the message she had left for him in R2, and he would end up staying.

The sound of someone’s boots scraping on the rocky ground that surrounded the  _ Falcon  _ suddenly cut through the distant noise of fighting _.  _ Han turned quickly, hoping it was Biggs and Wedge coming back — or better yet,  _ Leia  _ — but the kid that was approaching was not anyone he recognized.  Hell, he looked so young that he was not even sure if he was involved on either side of this crazy war.  He opened his mouth, about to ask who the hell he was, but the kid raised a hand, and something about the gesture had Han clamping his mouth shut.

“I only want to know one thing,” the boy said, thinly veiled rage seeping into his tone.  “Are you the pilot of this ship?”

Han took a step back, eyeing the kid warily.  Why did he have a bad feeling about this…?

“That depends on who’s asking,” he replied, a hand drifting toward his blaster.

He never had a chance to draw his weapon…


	20. Consequences

What the hell were Imperial soldiers doing here? Aphra already wanted to scream in frustration; they had split up once they landed, trying to cover all the possible places Luke could have gone, but it was proving to be a difficult search.  There was a lot of ground to cover, plus the kid had a huge advantage with the Force on his side. She was pretty sure if he did not want to be found, she was not going to find him, which was just  _ annoying.   _ Also unfair; totally unfair.

She let out a yelp as a blaster bolt from a stormtrooper came uncomfortably close, throwing her arms over her head as blasted rock sprayed out above her.  Vader and Luke were lucky she liked them, because she  _ so  _ would have ditched by now.  Aphra let out a grumble at how soft they were making her, before she threw herself up briefly, firing back and seeing one of the troopers go down from a blaster bolt that was not hers, before she ducked back down.  Frowning, she angled herself to the side, spotting a man in Rebel orange with an impressive moustache ducked behind cover himself. He spied her as well, motioning to something above the troopers. She raised an eyebrow, glancing up… before a slow grin worked its way onto her face.  There was a whole  _ colony  _ of wasp-worm nests clinging to the rock outcropping above the troops.  Aphra tossed the ‘Stache a devious grin, before holding up her fingers, counting off to three.

Once she hit three, the both of them (and one other; there was another Rebel she had not seen with the ‘Stache) swung up, shooting at the rock above the troopers.  Some of the nests were dislodged, sending a whole hoard of wasp-worms buzzing angrily at them. The troops stopped firing, not even their plastoid armor enough to keep the pests from clinging to them.  Aphra bolted then, firing a few more times at the colony of nets to add to the chaos, even as the two Rebels joined her in escaping.

The three of them ran until the troops were out of sight and kept going for a good minute after that, finally coming to a stop when No-’stache collapsed against a cliff wall.  ‘Stache looked up, frowning at the Star Destroyer they could just see in orbit above.

“Just one?” ‘Stache grumbled.  “I woulda thought Vader would bring the whole fleet to show off after killed two squads by himself.”

“It’s not ours,” Aphra gasped out, clinging to her knees and not thinking about what she was saying.  “Vader’s been traveling on his own.”

She maybe had a second to two to realize she made a mistake, the Rebels exchanging suspicious looks, before she suddenly had two blasters in her face.  Aphra let out a yelp, jumping back as she threw her hands up in the air.

“Whoa, whoa! Relax!” she exclaimed.  “Believe it or not, we’re the good guys!”

“Good guys?” No-’stache asked, incredulous.  “Vader just killed two of our squads, not to mention how many he’s killed on the ground, and you’re trying to tell us you’re the  _ good guys?!” _

“Uh… not as evil guys then?” she squeaked out as a blaster got closer to her face.  “Look, it’s not my fault he ignored the order to retreat!”

“Order?” ‘Stache asked.  “Who other than the Emperor orders Darth Vader around?”

“Uh…”

There was a beeping sound that resembled metal going through a grinder, and a missile “warning shot” hit the ground just behind the two Rebel pilots.  They both let out a yelp as dirt and dust and the  _ concussive force  _ knocked them off their feet.  Aphra may well have been in the same boat if she had not started scrambling away as soon as she heard the missile launch, hurrying over to where Triple Zero and BT were waiting for her.

“Good shot, Beetee!” she exclaimed, patting him on the head, only to be grumbled at in return.

“I do agree,” Triple Zero replied.  “If your lips get any looser, I’m certain Lord Vader will be happy to pull them off for you, Mistress Aphra.”

She shot him an annoyed look, wondering how long they had been standing there listening before they decided to help.

“C’mon,” she grumbled at them, starting to move.  “If we don’t find Luke, him pulling my lips off will be the least of my worries.”

~.oOOo.~

Chewbacca paused his trudge through the dusty planet, glancing behind him.  Planets like this were always bad for a wookiee to deal with; it was bad enough the visibility was poor because of all the dirt and dust blowing around, but there was also the more irritating problem of it clinging to his fur.  On top of it, the rocky outcroppings messed with his sensitive hearing. The echoes bouncing off the cliff faces made it hard to tell just where they were coming from.

Especially loud ones, like the explosion he just heard.

He let out a worried howl, turning to go back the way he came, hoping one of the others had not been caught up in whatever that was, when the scuffle of feet on rock had him whirling back around again.  His bowcaster came up in the next moment, intimately familiar with the black furred one standing just above him, growling faintly in challenge. Of course he knew this one; he had seen him often enough when doing work for that repulsive Hutt.

｢What are you doing here?｣ he snarled demandingly, keeping his weapon trained on Black Krrsantan.

｢A job,｣ the other wookiee warbled back at him.  ｢But since you’re here, I should collect on one I’ve been neglecting.  Jabba will give a generous sum for you and your human pup!｣

Krrsantan did not bother going for a weapon; instead he jumped from the overhead ledge he was standing on, coming down on Chewbacca with both fists before he could get out of the way.  He stumbled back, the other wookiee pursuing him mercilessly, even as the growled at him. He did not have time to be dealing with bounty hunters while little Leia was stuck out there somewhere!

Krrsantan got another hit on him, claws digging painfully into his arm, before Chewbacca fought back, slamming his bowcaster as hard as he could over the other Wookiee’s head.  A pained yelp escaped from the black furred one as he backed away enough for Chewbacca to collect his bearings. He brought the weapon up properly, firing a warning shot at Krrsantan’s feet.

｢I do not have time for this!｣ he snarled at him.  ｢There are more important things going on here than Jabba’s petty grudge over my human’s debt!  A young one is in danger from Vader. I  _ need  _ to find her!｣

Krrsantan paused at that, narrowing his eyes at him, as if trying to determine if he wanted to listen to him or not.

｢The one who destroyed the old one’s Star?｣ he finally asked.  ｢She has nothing to fear from my client.｣

It took Chewbacca a moment to realize Vader and Krrsantan’s client were the same person.  He shifted his bowcaster, training it squarely on the other Wookiee’s head, earning himself an annoyed warble.

｢The dark one hired another to watch over her, to keep her safe from other hunters,｣ he explained, before letting out a woof of a laugh. ｢He forgets how superior the hearing of our kind is.｣

Chewbacca paused, slowly lowering his weapon.  Vader was keeping Leia safe from others?  _ Why?   _ He had to know it was her that destroyed the Death Star; he knew from experience that those that used the Force could sense each other.  What was the point of ensuring she stayed safe if she was an enemy?

｢Fine then; her staying safe is more important than your bounty,｣  Krrsantan growled after a moment. ｢Go, but if you see one with pale hair that smells of sand and engine grease, do not kill him.  He is Vader’s man, you will not live long enough to regret not listening to me.｣

Krrsantan let out a grumbled noise, turning to leave, and Chewbacca could only let out a faint woof at his back, confused by everything he had just heard.

~.oOOo.~

This was a terrible plan.

The Rebel base was a cacophony of panicked activity as men and women scrambled to get to ground tanks and assault vehicles, knowing very well by now that they were going to their deaths.  Danres had no idea how many of them Vader had killed by now, and honestly it made her feel a little sick. They were supposed to be  _ helping  _ the Alliance; even if she understood  _ why  _ he needed to put up this front did not make it any easier to stomach.  Her annoyance with being stuck with the two most obvious Imperials in existence did not help matters either.

“You two are lucky everyone is stiff right now,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth as they made their way through the base.  Their “borrowed” uniforms made sure they did not stick out, but she kept feeling like if they did not hurry, they would be caught. It was the nervous energy pounding through the base, and the fact that nearly everyone was running around already.  Eventually she finally gave in and broke out into a run, noting Tanbris coming up right behind her, looking just as unsettled as she was.

It was a moment before they managed to slip away from the main bustle of the base, locating the areas where governing intelligence would be housed.  The area was quiet — unnervingly so — to the point that it was bothering Danres more than the busy bustle of the main hub. They slipped into a room with a row of computer banks, with Kreel taking up guard just inside the door frame as she dashed to one of the computers.  It did not take that long to discover  _ why  _ the area was abandoned, and she let out a groan as she gave the computer a decisive smack, as if that would help the situation.

“They’ve already wiped the data,” she explained.  “They must have done it when Vader was confirmed as a target.”

She looked up at Tanbris, feeling helpless.  Was all this for nothing? He did not seem to want to meet her gaze, as if he did not want her to see he was thinking the same thing.  His gaze turned downward, and he frowned, ducking down and scooping up a datapad just barely hidden under a desk. He thumbed it on to a lock screen… but it was  _ functioning.   _ Which meant there was a chance, however slim, that it had the data they needed.  Danres’ face lit up with hope; even if it was just a slim chance, at least they got  _ something  _ out of this.

“Hey, what are you—?!”

Danres’ head snapped up at the sudden voice, just in time to see the Rebel that had spotted them get impaled with Kreel’s lightsaber.  A cold feeling settled in her gut as she watched the body drop; it was not anyone she knew, but… but…

“Ailanis!”

She jumped, turning wide eyes toward Tanbris, not realizing he had been trying to get her attention.  He grabbed her arm, and somehow she managed to get her feet moving, stepping over the body as they ran out of the room.

~.oOOo.~

He could hear faint whispering in his ears, like the voice of those long gone encouraging him, stoaking the rage that burned brilliantly in his heart.  Luke finally had him, the man responsible for Teak’s death, the man that nearly killed his father. Watching him hanging in the air, at least a foot off the ground, was so much more  _ satisfying  _ than killing Grakkus.  It made him want to torture him slowly, squeeze at his throat tighter and tighter, threaten to snap his neck, before letting up just enough to allow him to recover, and doing it again.  He knew a pleased grin, out of place given the situation, was twisting up on his face, but he did not  _ care.   _ The Force was  _ singing  _ with him, joyus with him as he enacted his vengeance on Teak’s murderer.  Dark or Light, what he was doing had to be the right thing…

...right?

Doubt filtered through the whispers, drowning them out as his grip on the Force, and subsequently the pilot, started to wane.  He dropped him after a moment, leaving him on the ground and struggling for breath as he stared down at his hands. No… no, this was not right; just because he wanted the man that killed Teak to suffer for what he did, did not mean it was  _ right. _

Luke was about to turn away, to return to the ship and take the lecture that he no doubt had coming to him, when a warning sang through the Force.  It came far too late for him to do much to avoid the blaster bolt, jerking himself to the side just enough so that it hit his shoulder instead of his chest.  The pain that resulted was still enough for Luke to fall to his knees, gasping in agony as he fought against instinct to grab for the wound; that would only make the pain more intense than it already was.  It was soon joined by fear as the pilot scrambled up to his feet, keeping his blaster trained on him and he knew, he  _ knew _ there was little he could do to stop him from killing him.  The thought of dying to the same man that killed Teak brought his anger back, churning and writhing like a savage beast waiting to be set free.  The whispers were back, loud and demanding, encouraging him to let his power free, to strike.

To kill.

He felt, more than saw, the pilot moving to shoot, and Luke  _ reacted. _  In his mind, he wanted to stop him, to shove him away, but that wasn't what the Force interpreted his desire as.  All the fear, rage, and pain coalesced into his fingertips as he raised his hand, pouring out of him in the form of raw, crackling energy.  Bolts of lightning raced through the air and along the ground, striking the YT-1300 freighter and bouncing along its entire body. The energy continued to arc even as it tore through the ship, striking at the ground… and the pilot.

Through sheer force of will and  _ horror, _ Luke managed to pull himself back, clutching at his real hand as the pilot tumbled to the ground.  The arcs of lightning slowly ebbed off, but he didn't notice, too caught up in the sight of the pilot unconscious on the ground.  He was breathing, barely, but he would live if someone helped him soon. For a moment, Luke wanted to do something, anything to ensure the pilot would remain stabilized, but his attention was drawn to his hand.  Trails of white scars clawed up from under the cuff of his sleeve, making their way to the tips of his fingers, which were  _ black _ from the energy that had poured out of them.  A dim part of him realized he was probably going to need a full bacta treatment after this, but he was more caught up in how terrifying it was to see what his anger and fear could do to himself and others.

_ Kill him. _

Luke let out a shuddered gasp as the whispers of the Dark Side returned, louder than they had been before.  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take a deep breath and let his anger and fear and pain out through the Force.  Whatever those voices were would not  _ let _ him; he could still feel the emotions churning within him like a raging storm, feeding off the pain that radiated from his shoulder.  He trembled, wanting to cry out for his father, wishing the voices would just  _ go away. _

…no.  No, it was not many voices; it was just  _ one. _

Luke froze, eyes widening as that whispered voice  _ laughed, _ mocking him as he realized who it was.

_ Did you think you could hide your power from me, my son? _ the Emperor's words hissed in his mind, a mocking facsimile of a fatherly tone in his voice.   _ Your power _ radiates  _ in the Force.  You cannot keep it from me, especially when your anger has made you so much more powerful. _

Luke clutched at his head, fear squeezing at his heart as tightly as he gripped his hair.  No… no; this was not how this was supposed to happen!

_ Take your revenge, young Skywalker, _ the voice continued, soft, almost encouraging.  _ Kill that worthless excuse of a pilot.  He means nothing to you, except a reminder of how you failed to protect those you cared for. Kill him and grasp the power that is rightfully yours.  Show the galaxy you will never fail again… _

Luke found himself freezing again, the thought of him losing one of the others striking deep in his heart and refusing to let it go.  If he had more power… he would not have to worry. Nothing would ever harm any of them; Aphra, Tanbris, Danres, the droids, they would all be safe.  And his father… if he were stronger, he could help him, he knew he could. If he had more power, he could save him, get him out of that horrible suit, and—

The vision of a woman flashed before his eyes, standing with her back to him.  Long brown hair cascaded down her back, and a soft, dark blue robe was draped over her form.  He did not know her, had never seen her before, yet he  _ knew _ who she was.

"Mother…?"

The breathless whisper was enough to chase away his anger and fear, and with it, the Emperor’s poisoned voice.  His whispers vanished from his mind with an angry hiss, and Luke let out a shuddering breath. For a moment, he closed his eyes and focused inward, strengthening his mental shields and clamping down on his presence in the Force, hoping that would be enough to keep the Emperor from pulling that stunt again.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze immediately fell to the pilot, still lying motionless on the ground.  There was no doubt in his mind he had to do what he could to help him now, but before he could take a step toward him, the Force echoed in his ears, and he just barely managed to call his lightsaber to his hand and ignite it, flinging it up in an awkward, one handed block.  Blue and purple clashed violently, and Luke found his eyes widening as he saw a very familiar, very angry face beyond the clashing light.

Oh  _ no… _

~.oOOo.~

Karbin was hardly the most difficult opponent Vader had ever faced.  Compared to Grievous, he was much more unskilled, clearly not trained by a Sith Lord.  He would have been done with the monster much sooner if he was not so distracted; he could feel his son’s turmoil, as palpable as if he were standing right beside him.  Paternal instinct had him wanting to discard this battle entirely, but Karbin was having none of it; every time he executed a maneuver that would put distance between them, the fish-like cyborg was immediately on him, lightsabers flashing.

“One lightsaber against four!” Karbin declared.  “Admit it, Vader, you are outmatched!”

The childish arrogance of this fool; Vader flung a hand out as the Mon Calamarian continued to gloat at him like he had the upper hand.  He called on the Force to show just how wrong he was, catching the fool off guard as a loose rock structure fell on him. He tried to get away once he realized what Vader was doing, only to have his legs pinned by the rubble, allowing the Dark Lord to take his time approaching Karbin’s prone form.

“When you wield the Force, one lightsaber is all you need,” Vader replied, almost casually lopping off an arm.  The mechanical appendage flew off to the side, still clutching the weapon in its hand.

Karbin let out an enraged noise, pulling himself up, and it took Vader a moment to realize he was tearing away at his own legs.  He moved to strike him, but the cyborg was away before he could, skittering and bouncing along the rock face like an insect, disappearing into a cave mouth.  For a moment, Vader hesitated to follow him; he needed to get to Luke, his fear and anger and  _ pain  _ escalating to levels that he was certain were reverberating through the Force.  At the same time… he had to trust Leia would be able to get to him in time, but she would not if he left Karbin alive.

An irritated noise escaped from him, finally approaching what he had thought was a cave in the cliff face.  As he approached, he noticed what he once believed to be jagged rocks were the remains of columns, broken and worn from the passage of time.  He hesitated, memories of the past, of teachings long abandoned coming to mind; there had been stories of an ancient temple on Vrogas Vas, long abandoned.  For the moment, it just served to add to his irritation, not in the mood to add dealing with ghosts brought up by the lingering presence of Jedi. The sooner he dealt with Karbin, the sooner he could get to his children; it was that thought that drove him inside.

The ruined temple was dark, with very little light filtering in from the entrance and the few natural skylights.  His mask automatically adjusted to compensate, giving him a clear view of the broken columns and rubble littering what may have been a grand entrance way at one point.  There was of sign of Karbin, with only his own breathing echoing off the hallowed walls.

_ Ani… _

Vader froze, the familiar voice echoing in his head.  He knew it was not real; ghosts of memories, nothing more, but…

“Padmé…”

It was Luke’s fault; he reminded him so much of her, from the light in his eyes to his warm smile.  It eased his heart, knowing he had this, knowing that even though everything had come undone by his own hand, he had the unconditional love of at least one of his children.  It was more than he deserved, yet still made his heart sing in happiness.

Perhaps Maul had been right; perhaps he had not been a proper Sith for some time — eight years at the most.  Luke had changed  _ everything,  _ and it was all thanks to her.

_ Ani, behind you! _

Ghosts of memories or otherwise, that was a real warning through the Force.  Vader spun, his lightsaber coming up just in time to block Karbin’s lightsabers as he descended on him from the ceiling.  The cyborg let out an irritated his, striking at him again and again with renewed vigor, despite the fact that he was only standing on the mangled remains of barely functioning legs.

“The Force cannot save you from  _ me,  _ Vader!” the Mon Calamarian roared.  “Today I take your place at the Emperor’s side, while you take yours in the grave!”

Vader narrowed his eyes, shoving Karbin away, putting some distance between them.  He was sweeping in the next moment, pressing the attack with a striked aimed to relieve Karbin of his head, only for it to be blocked by two blades.

“If it’s by the Emperor’s side you wish to be, then you are best suited for the grave,” he snarled, pulling away, his blade becoming a whirl of motion, forcing the cyborg on the defensive.  A sneer came to Karbin’s face as each attack forced him back, through the ruined calls and back outside. His metal limbs clanged loudly against rock as they came out on a natural bridge leading to a different part of the temple.

“That sounded awfully treasonous, Vader,” Karbin replied, his mouth twisting into the best approximation of a grin his species could manage.  “I’m surprised you killed as many Rebels as you did if you’re one of them!”

Vader glared daggers at him through his mask, summoning up the Force and shoving Karbin away.  He held onto it, let his rage and irritation at the cyborg bleed into it as the threw his lightsaber.  It spun around in a wide arc around Karbin, sweeping down through the bridge before him, coming back up behind.  The rocky bridge dipped unsteadily as Vader lifted his hands, and the Mon Calamari realized too late what he was doing.  One hand caught his lightsaber as it came back to him, while the other commanded a damaged pillar to move, sending it crumbling down on top of the cyborg and dislodging the cut portion of the bridge.  He could hear Karbin yelling as it call came crumbling down, crashing to the ground far below.

As the dust slowly settled, Vader jumped down, metal joints groaning in protest as he landed on the pile of rubble.  It did not take long for him to spot movement, part of him mildly surprised to see Karbin still alive after all of that.  The Mon Calamari was in rough shape, a massive gash open in his cranium, though there was very little blood. His apparent disorientation was not enough to keep him from glaring daggers at Vader, however.

“Traitor…” he rasped.  “You planned this, all of this.  The girl was just your tool to destroy the Death Star; you were too much of a coward to do it yourself.”

Vader paused his approach, tilting his head slightly, as if to confirm Karbin’s accusations.  He was not entirely wrong; that had been his intention for Leia at first — a tool to use to curb the wrath he expected to be aimed at him after the Death Star’s destruction.  Everything was different now, though he still feared: feared what the Emperor would do to his children if he got his hands on them, what he would do to them should the scope of his own actions come to light.  What would happen to him was a distant worry compared to how scared for his children he was.

“You are partially correct, Karbin,” he acquiesced.  “But you will never know my true intentions.”

He raised his lightsaber, swiping down and neatly cleaving Karbin’s head from his cyborg body.  It fell, bouncing once on a rock, before rolling the rest of the way to the ground. Vader felt relief flood through him once it stopped, empty eyes staring sightlessly at the hazy sky.

His daughter was safe.  For now.

~.oOOo.~

The young man had an injured shoulder, the gaping blaster wound stretching with each movement he made, blood seeping from charred cracks of flesh.  His other hand looked like it had grabbed live wires, fingertips charred black and entirely useless, seeing as he refused to use it to grab his lightsaber.  Yet despite all that, and despite the grimace and pale color of his face that increased with every movement, the blonde was  _ still  _ managing to keep pace with Leia as they fought, blocking her every attack.  It was insane to witness; he was clearly unable to fight back, yet he was not backing down — or hell, even collapsing under the weight of the physical pain he was in.

She shoved him as far away from Han’s prone body as she could, trying desperately not to panic.  He was still alive, that much she could sense, but he was not moving, was barely breathing, and this man, Vader’s agent, looked like he was going to finish him off when she leapt in to attack.  The man murdering in cold blood was something Vader apparently did not want, though she could not understand why. His agents killed Rebels all the time; what made this one so special?

Well, special aside from the echo in the Force that rang loudly in her ears.

That echo was quickly getting on her nerves; she knew it was because of him, remembered his brilliant light humming in tune with hers in the Death Star trench, but she did not know  _ why,  _ or how to control it so it was not so  _ loud.  _ Her helplessness against it only fueled her frustration, striking out lower and lower along his blade, until her own finally caught the emitter of his, wrecking the lightsaber.  The blue blade flickered out, sending him stumbling back as he dropped the remains of the weapon, shaking his hand out. She had caught the compression gauntlet he was wearing as well, seering away some of the leather, revealing metal where flesh should have been.

Leia could feel him gathering the Force around him to protect himself as he back away, and she shifted her stance, her lightsaber still lit.

“Surrender,” she ordered, “you’re not getting away with what you and your master have done here!”

She expected him to toss some kind of Dark Side rhetoric at her, not the pained look of sadness that came to his face.  He shook his head, looking like he was going to say something, but a shadow fell over them both, cutting him off before he could.  The young man spun around, just in time for a fuzzy fist to crack across his face. He spun around, landing in a heap on the ground and struggled once to get back up, before pain and fatigue swallowed his presence in the Force, taking the echo with it.  Leia looked up as he fell still, relief washing over her.

“Chewie!” she exclaimed, before moving to the side, motioning to where Han was.  “Help Han; I’ll deal with this.”

A worried warble escaped from the wookiee before he hurried over to Han, checking him over carefully as Leia turned her focus back to the young agent.  His presence was muted, so he was still alive, but strangely she was not sure if she should feel relieved or not.

“Leia!”

Her attention snapped up again, spotting Biggs and Wedge running over a nearby hill.  The closer they got, the more she could see the two of them looked worse for wear, like someone had been firing missiles at them.  A worried look crossed her face; she hoped they had not been in too much danger looking for her.

“Man, am I glad you’re alright,” Wedge said once he got close.  “You have any idea how scared we were when you rammed Vader’s fighter!?”

Leia smiled sheepishly, muttering an apology, before she noticed Biggs frowning down at the agent.  He knelt down, turning him over, before his eyes widened like he had seen a ghost.

“Luke?!”

“You know him?” Leia asked, mildly surprised.  Biggs had mentioned going to an Imperial Academy, but she had gotten the impression he had not been attached to anyone that would have gone through to service.  He stood, waving down to the young man.

“Remember I said you reminded me of an old friend?” he asked.  “Meet the friend.”

Leia looked down at the young agent again, biting her lip as she caught Biggs muttered about how he thought he died on the Death Star.  She was not about to tell him his old friend was an agent of Vader’s and had nearly killed Han.

“We’ll take him with us then,” she managed to get out instead.  “We may have to hold him prisoner.”

There was no question about it, however; they would definitely need to keep him under lock and key, and the grim look on Biggs’ face showed he knew that.  The question was, would they be able to hold him once he woke up…?

~.oOOo.~

Aphra was exhausted by the time she spotted a familiar looking cape, and as much as she  _ really  _ did not want to be around Vader without Luke, she was happy to see him.  With both Rebel and Imperial troops gunning for her on this dustball, seeing someone that would give her a quick death was actually a  _ relief.   _ He was silent for a long moment, though she knew he knew she was there, and stood quietly, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Have the others reported in?”

It was weird to hear him speaking so softly, and for a moment it threw Aphra off her guard.  She hesitated a moment, shifting on her feet.

“Kreel did, yeah,” she answered.  “He said all they could find was a locked datapad.  The computer banks had already been wiped by the time they got to them.  I can start cracking it as soon as we’re in the air, but…”

She was not very hopeful it would give them the codes they were looking for.  Vader seemed to sense as much, but instead of lashing out at her for the bad news, he bowed his head, like the weight of everything that happened today all came down on his shoulders at once.  It was a humbling sight, and Aphra was hesitant to say anything more, not wanting to interrupt him.

“Where’s Luke?” she asked softly.

As if in answer, a ship lifted off from somewhere below them.  She could easily tell the saucer-like hunk of junk was a YT-1300 freighter, and if the rumors were true, who it belonged to as well.  The ship came about once it was up high enough, limping off for space. It did not look in good shape, and if the way some of the lights were flickering and the scoring along the hull was any indication, she suspecting there were systems on board that were shorting out.  It would be a miracle if they made it to space, not to mention past that Star Destroyer in orbit.

The ground at her feet began to tremble, and Aphra’s gaze returned to Vader.  He had yet to lift his head, but she could feel the dark cloud that hung around him.  His respirator was picking up, struggling to compensate for whatever it was he was trying to do — take down the freighter, maybe? Even as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it; after everything he had done today, taking down a small ship would not take this much effort.

He was aiming for something  _ bigger. _

Soon enough, she saw the Star Destroyer above starting to dip, steadily growing larger as it leaned toward the planet.  It was not long before it started to glow red, lighting up the sky in its heated glow, before it started to immediately cool upon penetrating the atmosphere.  Steam rose from the supercooling metal like clouds, and for a moment, the sun was completely hidden as the sky turned an angry shade of grey. The nose of the Star Destroyer emerged just before it hit the ground, a delayed, resonating boom shaking the landscape around them as a tidal wave of dust and sand rose up around the crash.  It was going to spread out for miles, likely take  _ days  _ to settle, but anyone still in the area would be long gone by the time it reached where they were standing.

Aphra stared up at Vader in mute horror, the fact that he had just pulled a  _ kriffing Star Destroyer  _ out of orbit a little too much for her to deal with at the moment.  The sound of another ship distracted her easily, and she looked up to see the Corellian freighter and the new ship barely slowed down enough for the former to dock, before shooting off for space.

“He is safe,” Vader finally answered, drawing Aphra’s attention back.  She swallowed, glancing up at the sky as more Rebel ships joined the retreat.

“We’ll get him back,” she found herself saying, wanting to believe it;  _ hoping  _ she could believe it.

Vader finally turned away from the Star Destroyer wreck, acknowledging Aphra with a faint nod, before starting past her.

“I will fly back with you,” he stated as Aphra scrambled to follow him.  “There is still much to do.”


	21. Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout out goes to Cat for jumping on this crazy ride and helping me beta this fic. She's been a huge source of inspiration for this chapter and the next, and if an AU side story happens where Teak lives? It's all her fault.

He could hear the familiar hum of a ship in hyperspace as consciousness slowly came back to him, still alive after being  _ kriffing electrocuted.  _ Han had no idea how the hell that kid managed to do that — he got that he had a Force thing going on once he started long distance choking him, but he had never seen Leia do anything like  _ that.  _ A groan escaped from him, and it took him a moment to realize the padding at his back was unfamiliar.  This was not his bunk, this was not the  _ Falcon,  _ and the realization had Han jerking up despite the pain he was in, flinging his eyes open.  A colorful montage showing off the Rebel’s signature firebird met his eyes, and he blinked at it dumbly, the neon coloring almost painful to look at, before he felt a gentle hand on his arm.  His head whipped around immediately, taking in Leia’s worn expression, though she seemed happy he was awake.

“Relax, Han,” she entreated softly.  “We’re on the  _ Ghost.” _

“What—” Han began, but broke off, his throat feeling strained, a fiery pain chasing at the pull of muscles.  She turned away a moment, offering him a drink that he gulped down greedily. “What the hell happened? Where’s my ship?”

Leia rolled her eyes in amusement.

“It’s fine, laserbrain, it’s just not safe to fly,” she replied.  “Too many systems were shorting out. It’s docked with us right now.”

Han wilted in relief, before taking a sidelong glance at Leia.  Aside from a few bruises, she seemed to be all right, which was damn lucky considering what had happened back there.  He almost reached for her, for a moment wanting to ignore sense and pull her close, to hold onto her for awhile. He held himself back, fairly sure anything like that would get him slapped.  Besides, Leia was too classy for heat-of-the-moment actions like that.

“Who the heck was that kid?” he asked instead.

“Vader’s agent,” she answered, a frown coming to her face as Han let out a rude noise.

“Figures; he damn near strangled me before hitting me with kriffing  _ lightning,”  _ he groused.  Leia’s eyes went wide at that, getting Han to raise an eyebrow at her.  “...let me guess, you Force types don’t normally become high voltage energy generators?”

Leia mutely shook her head, falling back in her seat.  He could  _ guess  _ why she looked so worried too; if they were on Hera’s ship, than whomever had been with her would have been on the ship as well…

“We took him prisoner, didn’t we?” Han asked, though it was not really a question and he was not surprised when she nodded.

“Maul is watching him, but I should warn him…” she began, moving to leave.

Han let out a grunt, carefully shuffling himself off the bunk.  Leia turned back to him immediately, reaching out to brace him.

“You  _ really  _ shouldn’t be moving, Han,” she said, drawing a lopsided grin out of him.

“Maybe, but after that stunt you pulled, do you really think I’m going to let you out of my sight?” he asked.  Leia ducked her head, and he  _ swore  _ he saw her ears turn red before she collected herself.

She held onto him until she was sure he could walk without help, though Han did not miss the fact she stayed close as they made their way to the cargo hold.  Maul was there as promised, though so was Biggs, his dark eyes focused sadly on the slumped form of the kid that attacked him. Someone had put a bacta patch on his shoulder and wrapped up his hand before binding both together, as well as tie him to the shipping container he was propped up against.  Han stopped dead, frowning at him; it was hard to believe it was the same person that had nearly killed him.

“How old d’ya think he is?” he asked.  Leia shook her head, but it was Biggs that answered.

“He should still be nineteen; his birthday’s Empire Day,” he said glumly, his eyes never leaving the kid.  Han raised an eyebrow at that, glancing down at Leia, who let out a breath. She did not look like she wanted to press him.  Maul, on the other hand, did not seem bothered by doing so.

“If you know the boy, then telling us before he wakes up would save us a lot of trouble.”

Biggs fixed the zabrak with an annoyed look, before he slumped back.

“He ran away from his uncle’s farm when he was eleven,” he began.  “It wasn’t the first time he tried either; Luke was always the outcast, always saying he was going to be a pilot like his dad.  That was just the first time he went through with it; scared the whole damn community around Anchorhead half to death. For years we thought he was dead or picked up by slavers.”

An annoyed noise escaped from him, waving a hand at the kid.

“Seven years later, I get into the Academy, and there he is, all smiles when he sees me,” Biggs continued.  “You bet I gave him a good wallop for that one. When I was done chewing him out, he told me everything; how he accidentally ended up on the  _ Devastator  _ of all kriffing ships, how he got to meet Darth Vader.  I thought it was a load of Bantha dung until I heard the other recruits talking about how Vader was actually his  _ patron,  _ paying his way through the Academy.”

Leia seemed to sink back against Han as Biggs spoke, her face paling as if she was figuring something out that terrified her.  He looked down at her, concerned, as Biggs let out a sigh.

“I tried to get him to jump ship with me when I graduated early, but he refused,” he continued.  “He kept insisting Vader was a good person, kept saying he was going to fly with Black Squadron. Last I heard, he got his wish, before…”

He trailed off, finally turning his gaze to Leia.  She swallowed hard, looking like it took a great amount of effort for her to tear her eyes away from the kid.  She looked visibly shaken, and Han could not help but put a comforting hand on her shoulder, suddenly feeling protective.

“What did you say his name was?” she asked.  “His full name?”

Biggs looked like he was going to answer, when a faint groan made all of them jump, even Maul.  The kid’s head lolled on his shoulders, before he finally forced it up, resting it heavily against the container he was tied to.

“Sh-shut up, Biggs,” he croaked out, lifting his hands to rub at his face, the cuffs falling away from his wrists like an afterthought.  Han immediately pulled his blaster, though he was kept from training it on the kid by Leia putting a hand on his arm. He tossed her a confused look, but she was too busy staring at the kid like he was a ghost, especially as he dropped his hands, blinking up at them with bright blue eyes.

“Maul…” she began softly, like she was looking for confirmation on something.  Maul stared at the kid for a long moment, before he let out a sigh.

“Well, I  _ would  _ say I was looking at a ghost,” he answered her, turning away from the kid as Leia trembled next to Han.  He stared at her a moment, before throwing up his free hand.

“Someone mind cluing me in?” he asked.  “What’s the big idea with this guy?”

Instead of answering, Leia just seemed to withdraw into herself.  She shook, trying to say something, before giving up, turning away and leaving the room.

~.oOOo.~

It did not take long for the bickering to start once they were all back at their rendezvous and convened on the  _ Ark Angel.   _ Aphra tried not to flinch as Kreel went off on Danres; apparently, he had been under the impression that this whole thing was going to end with them ditching her, if the fact that Tanbris was sporting a black eye was any indication.  Tanbris was standing between them now, backing Danres up despite the fact that he was snapping at someone that technically outranked him, nevermind they were from different branches of the military. It was kind of refreshing to see, considering a few weeks ago he probably would have just retreated to the cockpit.  That did not make it any less annoying to hear, especially since she was trying to concentrate on cracking the datapad they brought back.

It did not help that she knew this grudgefest would not be happening if they were not short a person.

Aphra glanced away from her screen to the dark shadow taking up the wall next to her console.  Vader had yet to say anything since lifting off from the planet, and DV-2 had yet to leave his side either.  The droid’s emotion light seemed to be stuck on dark blue, occasionally letting out a sad sounding boop. After the last one, Vader had reached down, placing a hand on the droid’s angular head.

She hated how heart wrenching it was to see the two of them.

After a moment, the shouting reached the point where she could not take it anymore, and Aphra loudly slapped her hands on the console, shooting up from her seat.

“All right, that’s it!” she snapped.  “Next one of you to yell at anyone gets removed from Triple Zero’s master list!”

Triple Zero’s red eyes lit up in delight at that.  Kreel took one look at the torture droid, tossed a glare at Danres, before stalking off to a corner of the workshop as far away from both as he could possibly get.  Danres was more than happy to glare back, before her attention shifted to Tanbris. She left his side after a moment, collecting the first aid kit from under a table, sitting down with him and tending to his black eye.

Aphra held herself up a moment longer, hands on her hips as she watched the three of them, before she collapsed back into her chair.  Man, did she hate being the one to put her foot down.

“What’s our next move?” she finally asked.  “We can’t just hang out here; pretty sure it’s not going to take long for the Emperor to hear about what happened.”

“We should be getting Luke back,” Tanbris spoke up, struggling against a flinch as Danres finished patching him up.  “After what happened planetside, the Rebels are likely to pin all the blame on him; make an example of him.”

Danres looked like she wanted to object, only to purse her lips.  The damage done on Vrogas Vas had been extensive; they all had been able to see Vader’s path of destruction once they lifted off.  There was no way she could say someone in the Rebellion would not take it out on Luke, and the look on her face showed it.

“No.”

Aphra jumped as Vader suddenly spoke up, her head snapping toward him.  He did not seem to be looking at any of them, instead focusing on the same point on the floor, and she got the distinct impression that what he had to say was difficult for him.

“He is safe where he is,” he continued.  “They would be aware he is my ‘agent’. He would be too valuable for them to harm.”

A heavy feeling settled over the room, and Aphra let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping.  They all knew Vader would have torn through a dozen planets just to get Luke back. The fact that he was  _ not  _ doing that was just a testament to how much they had screwed up.

She turned back to her computer after a moment.

“Well, I’m gonna get this thing cracked open,” she announced.  “Danres, gimme a hand. Everyone else, try not to kill each other.  We can figure out what to do once we know if we have the codes or not.”

Tanbris and Kreel shot glares at each other from across the room, but they did not start yelling, so Aphra ignored them for now.

~.oOOo.~

Maul could not help but be both amused and fascinated by this tiny version of Anakin Skywalker.  The boy was radiating pain, with a paleness to his face that was alarming at best, yet he still refused medical attention from anyone that offered it before he was (reluctantly; Rebels were too soft) dragged to interrogation.  He sat there, stone faced, ignoring any questions except ones that asked for his name.

“FL-One-One-Three-Eight,” he answered for the umpteenth time, drawing a frustrated noise out of the man interrogating him.  Beside Maul, Hera let out a stressed noise, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“You know, I  _ could  _ always rip a better response out of his head,” Maul offered, though it only earned him a glare from Hera.  The boy did react to that though, tossing him a look that practically  _ dared  _ him to try.  He just flashed a less than kind smile at him in response, showing off sharp teeth.

“Look, kid,” Hera began, stepping forward and placing a hand on the table that separated the boy from his interrogator.  “We already know your first name is Luke. If we have to get the rest of your name from Biggs, we will.”

The boy did not outwardly react, but Maul did catch a stray, aching feeling from him.  He raised an eyebrow as Hera stared him down, expecting him to answer. She finally let out an irritated noise, storming out of the room, with Maul following after a moment.

“I didn’t realize just how bad Imperial conditioning could be,” she grumbled under her breath, folding her arms over her chest as she stalked down the hall.

“No, that’s not conditioning, that’s devotion,” Maul replied.  “I could feel it; he does want to tell us, but he’s uncertain whom he can trust.”

Hera paused at that, turning toward him.

“Can you talk to him then?” she asked softly.  “And I mean actually  _ talk,  _ not force him.  If we need to establish trust, then another ‘dark’ person might help.”

Maul only shook his head.  “Other Dark Side followers do not trust each other; the whole point of the Rule of Two is for the apprentice to rise up and slay his master, before taking on another.”

He paused a moment to enjoy the sight of Hera scrunching her face up in disgust at that.

“Besides, the boy is not dark; touched it, yes, but only in the same way Leia has,” he finished.

She paused again, a worried look coming to her face.  They both knew who it was that could get through to that boy, and neither of them wanted to do it.  Leia had been through enough as it was.

“Do you really think…” Hera began, but she could not quite get herself to finish the question.  She let out a sigh after a moment, pressing a hand to her forehead. “...talk to her, please,” she finally continued.  “I’m going to have him moved to a cell until she’s ready.”

She did not sound like she wanted to do that — even with the patchwork job they had done, the boy was still injured fairly badly, and belonged in medbay instead of a cell in the brig.  There was not much they could do with him denying treatment and having the power to back up that denial, and… well, the boy was, after all, an Imperial.

Maul offered her a brief nod, before they parted, Hera going back they way they came and Maul continuing on, sensing out his apprentice.  It actually took him a moment to feel where she was; when she did not want to be found, she could certainly make sure no one would, even despite the training bond they shared.  He actually had to  _ focus  _ to find her light, sparkling dimly deeper in the bulk cruiser they were on.

She had so much trouble really letting people in.  Small wonder why.

He followed her signature in the Force to a practically abandoned area of the ship, finally coming to a stop when he saw her.  Leia was curled up against a bulkhead, the book of Nightsister lore open on her lap, though she did not really seem to be reading it.  Maul stopped a respectful distance away from her, waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to talk.

“Obi-Wan used to tell me something that drove me on through my training,” she said softly.  “‘You are the last hope the galaxy has left’. For the longest time I thought he was saying that because I was the only person left that could learn to be a Jedi.  Now I wonder if I was the only one left to train that he could keep his hands on.”

Maul did not comment, largely because anything he had to say felt inadequate or unfair.  Sure, he could have told her about the Jedi policies to separate children from their parents, indoctrinate them to their methods of detached charity and how she was lucky to have avoided that, but it would only serve to make her bad mood worse.  Instead, he shuffled over to sit down beside her, letting out a faint grunt as he fell to the ground with a heavy  _ clang.   _ They were silent for a moment, before Leia canted herself toward him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I regret following a political career instead of something more hands on, more  _ normal,”  _ she said.  “I keep trying to think of a logical way to deal with this, but there is no  _ logic  _ to be had in any of it.”

Maul could not help but let out a snort, a faint smile coming to his face.

“And what would you have done then?” he asked.

“Mm…” Leia hummed faintly, a thoughtful look on her face.  “If this were a more peaceful time… I may have still abdicated… run off to be a mechanic.”

Maul almost laughed at that, though the humor could still be heard in his voice when he asked, “A mechanic?”

Leia nodded against his shoulder.  “I enjoy working on my ship. I think if there was no war and no worries, I would have done that.”

They lapsed into silence, the distant sound of the bulk cruiser’s engine humming in the background.  It was a long time before she finally moved, letting out a sigh as she lifted herself off his shoulder.

“They want me to talk to him, don’t they?”

Maul nodded.  “Be mindful, Leia; this situation isn’t what it appears to be on the surface.”

She nodded, pulling herself up, before turning to help Maul do the same.  He paused once he was up, holding onto her hand a little tighter to keep her from walking off.  Leia raised an eyebrow, tilting her head curiously.

“About before, on the  _ Ghost…”  _ he began.  “Leia, have you had the opportunity to see Vader’s eyes?”

She frowned at that.  “Yes, once, on Cymoon; his mask had been damaged.  They were blue, like Luke’s.”

Maul fell quiet, absently nodding to himself.  Yes, that… that explained  _ quite  _ a bit…

~.oOOo.~

They had left a single guard at the young man’s cell door, who had long since gotten bored and fallen asleep.  She suspected had the boy been anyone else, he probably would have run off by now, stolen a ship, and lit a red flag all over the Empire as to where the Rebellion was hiding.  Even with his injuries, he would have managed it easily, sent the Rebellion limping off, if they were lucky. He was not that kind of person; he was too much like both his parents for something like that.

She did not need to make her presence known before his head snapped toward her, a frown on his face as he took in the sight of her.  He determined quickly that she was not quite the same as the others, and he tilted his head, curious.

“You’re quite good,” she said softly.  “Not even Maul has realized I’m here.”

He leaned back in his cell, casting a distrustful look her way.  She only met it with a smile, casually passing through the bars of his cell like they were not there.  His eyes widened at that, staring in utter awe, and she almost laughed.

“No, I’m not really ‘here’,” she assured him, before motioning to his shoulder.  “You need to let them help you. You don’t need to suffer just because of what happened.”

He let out a breath at that, flinching as his shoulders slumped.

“...I underestimated him,” he admitted softly.  A sad look came to her face, her heart aching over how much he was beating himself up over this.

“The Emperor? You’re not the first one to do so,” she replied gently.  His head came up at that, and for a moment, the fire in his eyes reminding him of someone else.

“I will be the last,” he said, and she could not help but laugh.

“You are definitely your mother’s son,” she replied.  It got him to stare at her a moment, before he sagged back against the wall, defeated.  She stepped closer then, kneeling down beside him, reaching for him like she could actually rest her hands on his arm.  He shivered slightly, like her presence was enough to give him chills.

“You’re so light…” he murmured faintly, a bit of an embarrassed look coming to his face.  She smiled softly, reaching out to him through the Force, letting her presence intertwine with his.  He let out a breath at the sensation, his eyelids drooping slightly as her light helped ease his pain, leaving the weariness from the last few hours to replace it.

“I can show you how to do a healing trance,” she began.  “It isn’t a substitute for a bacta tank, though. So be sure to get proper treatment, okay?”

He let out a faint mumble of acknowledgement, following her guidance as he sunk further toward half trance, half asleep.  Before his awareness drifted off entirely, however, he mumbled a faint plea, trying to get his mouth to properly form words.  He gave up with a frustrated whine, sending her a mental image of his father.

She reached up, fingers going through the motions of brushing his hair out of his face, even though she could not do that.

“Don’t worry, Little Skyguy, he’s my next stop.”

~.oOOo.~

“‘Dear diary, I’m not sure who this new zabrak is that accompanied General Syndulla, but he is absolutely awful.  I’m pretty sure if he came anywhere near any kind of plant life, it would immediately wilt. Of course he’s part of the princess’s entourage too; her and her woo-woo—’ ...I am not finishing that.”

Danres tossed the datapad onto the desk, feeling disgust welling up in her throat.  All that… all the people that died, losing Luke, and everything else that had happened, and all they got out of it was a fragging diary!  She wanted to scream and tear her hair out in frustration, and the fact that Aphra looked like she was going to start laughing was not helping.  She reached over her, scooping up the datapad and thumbing through it.

“‘So I was in the ‘fresher the other day’,” she began reading, “‘and I overheard General Draven complaining about my last report, and how my translation was wrong.  I’d like to see that moof-milker do better. There are at least seven regional dialects for Ubese, to the point were the same sounding words mean entirely different things depending on the dialect.  Context matters, you—’ ...wow, I thought Hutt goons could come up with colorful swears.”

Danres let out a groan, wishing there was something close on hand that she could throw at the other woman.  She was not helping matters right now, but that did not stop her from kicking back in her seat, continuing to thumb through the pad like she hoped she would find a more entertaining passage.  Danres found her gaze drifting over to where Vader was standing, looking like he would sigh heavily if he were capable of it.

“So… now what?” she finally managed to get out.

“I dunno about you guys, but I’m totally perfect with this right now,” Aphra replied, a giant grin spreading over her face.  Danres rolled her eyes, her hand snapping out and grabbing the datapad, earning herself a pout.

“We still need to establish some way to get in contact with the Rebellion,” Tanbris pointed out, pretending Aphra was not there.  “Even if we’re not using the Fulcrum codes.”

“But they won't trust us if we come to them now,” Danres replied glumly.  “Not that they would have before.”

“We can go with my plan,” Kreel spoke up from where he was still sulking in a corner.  “Ditch the Rebel out the airlock and go on with our lives.”

Danres scrunched her face up at him, though any creative retort she had was immediately cut off by something much better:

“No,” Vader’s voice boomed, making the very air tremble with the threat behind his tone.

“I think I may have a better plan.”

Danres near jumped out of her skin at the new voice, her hand immediately going for her blaster.  She was not the only one either; both Aphra and Tanbris pulled their weapons, as well as Kreel with his lightsaber, on the woman that seemingly just appeared in the middle of the workshop.  Despite the white cloak covering most of her head, it was easy to recognize the montrails of a Togruta, but beyond that, she was not anyone Danres recognized. Someone in the room did, and she found her gaze drifting over to the only person that had not drawn a weapon.

Vader was silent a long moment, before he finally pushed himself off the wall, approaching her.

“Snips,” he intoned softly.

Danres stared like the Dark Lord suddenly grew a sarlacc beak.  Did… did she just hear a term of endearment come from him? Aimed at someone  _ not  _ Luke?  Her gaze drifted between Aphra and Tanbris, as if to make sure she had really heard that, before lowering her gun.  Whatever this was about, it had made the woman extremely happy; the smile on her face could probably power a space station for a year.

“Hello, master,” she said softly.  “It’s been awhile.”


	22. Hijacked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter saw me and my friend debating for at least twenty minutes about the use of "past" over "passed". Trust me, you'll understand why when you get to that part. Yes, we're _pretty sure_ that what we settled on is correct.
> 
> Also, super awesome thanks to said friend for being smart enough to use a simple search to figure out how to do computer text font. Because I've only been on this site for years and never figured it out.

It really was a miracle that the Alliance got anything done sometimes.

Leia stood before the man that was supposed to be guarding their prisoner, hands on her hips and struggled against the urge to knock him off the chair he was slouched in.  She did not know how anyone could just fall asleep in this kind of situation, let alone in such an uncomfortable position, but it was only serving as an irritating reminder that they had a long way to go in certain aspects.  She shook her head after a moment, turning away from the man and instead focusing on the cell he was supposed to be guarding.

Leia reached a hand out, wrapping it around one of the bars.  The young Imperial agent was curled up on the bunk with his back resting against the wall, his chest rising and falling slowly.  At first glance, it just looked like he was sleeping, but Leia could sense his brilliance in the Force, and knew he was doing something, not that she knew _what._  All she could really tell was that his presence was still as bright as if he were awake, the echo that came from him humming around her.  Now that she understood just who he was, she could tell that it was not really an echo; it was her own song in the Force, sung in harmony and struggling to sing _with_ her.

She supposed that was how twins sounded in the Force.

Leia swallowed hard, feeling a tidal wave of emotions rising up and getting stuck in her throat.  She did not know how she was supposed to react to any of this; all of it felt wrong, and she could not find anything to help it all make sense.

Eight years… Luke had eight years with their father, practically grew up with him supporting him and caring for him.  She could now understand the fear Vader had felt for him on Vrogas Vas, because somehow, under that dark armor, Vader _cared._ This young man was his _son,_ and knowing that, she could understand so many of his odd behaviors and responses; how he had behaved on the Death Star, on Cymoon.

But this was also the terror of the galaxy; the man that had killed so many in the name of the Emperor.  This was the man that _tortured her_ first, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would have disposed of her after she destroyed the Death Star had Han not shown up.

Why did she get cast aside, while _he_ got their father’s affection?

It was ridiculous to think; Bail was her father, more than Vader was or ever would be.  She loved _her_ father and _her_ mother; they raised her as best they could, even though she was not theirs, even though she had abilities they did not know how to deal with.  Yet even with how horrifying it was knowing that Vader and Anakin were the same person, knowing all he was responsible for, things she and no one else could forgive him for; even with _all that,_ she could not help feeling pain at being discarded, and an ugly sort of jealousy at the newly discovered sibling that had not been.

Something suddenly reached out to her then, the feeling of something warm resting over her hand.  She froze, staring at the young man like she expected his eyes to open any second. He did not move, however, still continuing to breathe steadily as he remained in whatever state he had put himself in.  That did not stop the feeling of attempted comfort, and she found herself recoiling, pulling away from the cell bars.

It was a moment before Leia turned away, hugging her arms to her chest and _desperately_ wishing some part of this would start making sense.

~.oOOo.~

Boba Fett despised this job with every fiber of his being.

Vrogas Vas had hardly been enough to shake him; his very existence came about because of war, and he had spent most of his life ducking around active battles.  He fell in with Aura Sing and the rest of the bounty hunter community after his father — his _father,_ not his _template_ — was murdered, and no one could stop him unless they were a Jedi, and even then he never gave up trying to kill the one that had been responsible for his father’s death.  His revenge was taken from him now that their sorry lot was gone, except for… _whatever_ it was that Vader and his precious princess were.  He did not know, did not _care,_ outside of the fact that the Dark Lord knew too much for his liking.

“Hey, Lucky!” one of the ground fighters called over to him from down the hall.  “We’re meeting up with some of the pilots at mess. Wanna come?”

Boba damn near rolled his eyes.  It was embarrassing how easy it was to infiltrate the Rebel ranks.  All he needed was some sob story that enlisting into the Empire was not what he thought it would be, and they bought it.  Of course, “former stormtrooper” got more than a few sidelong glances, but any objections had been silenced after Vrogas Vas, his assistance with protecting the princess as well as the number of Imperial troops he took down being well documented.  Now they were _all_ friendly with him; it made doing this dumb job easier, especially since the princess was more than happy to just walk right up to him.

He still hated it.

“Go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” he called back, before ducking into the quarters he shared with twelve others.

The only good thing about this was that he was being well paid.  The first payment after the initial down payment had hit his account weeks ago, and it was more than generous for a simple guard job.  But he had no privacy here, and the times he was alone to check for bounty postings were few and far between.

Just because Vader said he had to watch one Rebel, did not mean he could not collect on any of the others.  The people in the princess’ entourage were off limits on account of being too noticeable — which was annoying, considering Solo and his wookiee were among them, and Jabba had just increased _their_ bounty — but everyone else was fair game as long as the bounty was not alive only, and he had a means of disposing the body once he collected his proof.

He flopped onto his designated bunk in the blissfully quiet and empty room, grabbing up his datapad and thumbing it on.  The first thing that assaulted his eyes was an emergency bounty update, marked as high priority for all hunters and stamped with the Imperial seal.  Curious, he thumbed to it, only to be greeted with an image of the princess, and he very nearly rolled his eyes and passed it over. Considering what she did at Vrogas Vas, he was not _too_ shocked that there was an increase to her bounty, but he scrolled through the list of charges anyway, and stopped cold once he got to the end and saw the new addition to the list.

Wanted for the destruction of the DS-1 Orbital Installation.

That woman had destroyed the Death Star.  Boba sat back in numb surprise, continuing to scroll down, not entirely surprised her bounty had switched to alive only, and the increase in value… those were a lot of zeros.  That was retirement level of zeros; of buying a whole _planet_ level of zeros.  It was likely the Rebellion already knew about this too, were already taking steps to ensure the princess would be well protected from opportunistic fools and the crazier hunters.

They had no idea they already had one on the inside, and Boba was quickly forming a plan that was just crazy enough to work…

~.oOOo.~

“He’s still asleep?”

Biggs could not help but cast a worried gaze at Leia, before glancing over at Wedge, then away from them both.  It had been two days since they had docked with the remains of their part of the fleet, and two days since Luke had been locked up.  The fact that he was still out cold was kind of terrifying, and he was worried that the dumb hotshot might have been more injured than he let on.  He really did not want to be the one to make that call back to Tatooine. “Sorry, we accidentally killed your nephew”? Owen and Beru Lars deserved better than that after all the worrying they had done.

Leia let out a breath after a moment, nodding.  She had not looked well since they had talked in the cargo hold of the _Ghost,_ reminding him of how unwell she had been after Cymoon.  She never told them what had bothered her there, and Biggs had not wanted to pry, but he was starting to get the impression it was related to why she was upset now.

“There is… something I need to talk to you two about,” she began.  No special Force powers were needed to tell how uncomfortable she was at the moment.  “I need to tell Han too, but it will have to wait until medical clears him.”

Biggs exchanged another look with Wedge again, the both of them worried.

“Hey, Leia…” Wedge began, “whatever it is, we’ve got your back, okay?”

Leia let out a hollow sounding laugh.  “I’m not so sure that will remain true, Wedge,” she said softly, pressing her hands to the side of her head and letting out a deep breath.  “You all know I was adopted; I have been very candid about this, just not where I was from.”

She dropped her hands, and Biggs let out a curious noise as her focus went immediately to him.

“My birth family’s name is Skywalker.”

...oh.

Oh kriffing _hell._

Biggs’ eyes widened, and he found himself taking a step back.  Wedge’s head whipped back and forth between them, confused.

“So Luke is…”

“My twin brother, yes,” Leia finished for Biggs, and now Wedge’s eyes went wide as well.  She was hardly the first person in the Rebellion to have an Imperial relative, but… Luke had not know he had a sister back on Tatooine, nor had he when they met up again at the Academy, and he doubted Leia knew about him before all this.

What a way to find out.

“There’s more,” she continued softly.  “Our father was Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi and general in the Clone Wars.  He’s still alive.”

Wedge perked up at that.  “Well, that’s good, right?  Maybe we could find him and have him talk some sense into Luke.  Where is he?”

Leia fell silent, unable to meet their gaze.  An unsettled feeling worked its way into Biggs’ gut; if she was upset about finding her brother the same way she had been upset after Cymoon, then that meant…

“You’ve all seen him at least once before,” she said softly, “as we were escaping Cymoon.”

Realization slowly dawned on Wedge's face as Biggs ran a hand over his mustache and mouth, a numb feeling settling in his gut.  Mother of moons, no wonder the Lars' kept insisting Luke's father was just a spice smuggler; that was infinitely preferable than reality.

"Hey, Leia," Wedge spoke up, reaching for her.  "This doesn't change anything, okay? You're still our Red Five.  You're still our crazy Jedi that rams into starfighters and blows up Death Stars.  The only thing that really changes is that you have, hands down, the _worst_ Imperial relatives."

Leia looked like she wanted to cry, but there was a smile on her face, relieved by what Wedge said.  He pulled her into a tight hug, helping her hide the sobs she was struggling against.

~.oOOo.~

It was just another day waiting for direction from Alliance High Command for Juliquin.  He reported in to his post at navigation as always and… sat. Waiting. The waiting was always so damn hard.  Any moment a Star Destroyer on routine patrols could pop out of hyperspace, and they would be forced to scramble away.  People would be yelling, the navicomputer would be making rude noises as he tried to get it to calculate faster… it would just be a mess.  The sooner they got to a point where they could hide on a base somewhere, the better.

He waved absently to a friend, and missed when the navicomputer monitor glitched.  Someone else struck up a conversation with him about the new Incom 300 speeders, so he did not see when the computer started pouring out calculations at a speed faster than it usually did.

He did not even know there was anything wrong until the ship suddenly jumped into hyperspace.  Juliquin stared in numb shock at the swirl of stars outside the viewport, before whirling on the navicomputer as the ship’s captain stormed toward him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded.

“It’s not me, sir; I wasn’t doing anything on it,” he answered, helplessly trying to get the computer to respond.  “Someone’s remote hijacked the navicomputer.”

The captain hovered over him, glaring distrustfully, before leaning over to eye the computer.  He tapped at it a few times himself, frowning at the lack of response.

“Can you see where we’re going?”

Juliquin fussed over the computer as the captain backed off, tapping in a few commands, before he froze, his face paling.

“C...Coruscant, sir…”

~.oOOo.~

Leia had felt the ship go into hyperspace and frowned, wondering when the decision to mobilize had been made.  Moments later, she could feel a sense of panic filter through the ship, noticing a few high ranking tech officers dashing off for the bridge, and she just _knew_ something had gone wrong.  She was about to follow them, when she felt a gentle hand on her arm, and turned in surprise to see Lucky there.  How was he so good at sneaking up on her like that?

“Ma’am,” he began softly, “General Syndulla wanted me to find you.  I need to take you to a safe location.”

She could feel the urgency in his voice, and found herself nodding despite how much she wanted to argue.  He steered her away from the docking bay they had been in, heading down lesser traveled corridors and away from the building panic.

“What happened?” she finally asked when she was certain there was no one around to hear them.

“Sabotage, ma’am,” he answered with his usual clipped directness.  “Someone’s hijacked the navi’puter. Considering our destination is Coruscant, they think someone’s looking to cash in on your bounty.”

Something felt wrong in his explanation, and Leia gathered the Force around her in anticipation.

“Can they stop it? Bring us out?”

“Negative, ma’am,” he replied.  “They need to locate the remote access device and have good navigation protocols to get the ship out early.”

That _sounded_ like too much information, like something he should not have already known.  Before she could whirl on him, she felt a prick on her neck, and dizziness immediately washed over her.

“...and you ask too many questions, Princess.”

She tried to pull the Force into herself, tried to combat whatever she had been injected with, but everything felt so _slow,_ to the point where it felt like hours passed before blissful unconsciousness claimed her.

~.oOOo.~

Maul was a nebulous dark cloud of annoyance, so much so that people were practically throwing themselves out of his way as he stalked down the halls.  The moment he felt the ship enter hyperspace, he _knew_ something was off, and the fact that he damn near needed to pry where they were suddenly going out of Hera had not helped his mood any.

 _Coruscant;_ he had not been anywhere near his old master’s seat in over two decades, and he was in no mood to suddenly appear there now.  His only thought was someone _Imperial_ would go there; someone with Skywalker levels of audacity to try to trick his senses.

He stormed into the brig, heading right for the holding cell the boy was locked in.  To his surprise (and annoyance), the boy was still unconscious, and his guard had apparently abandoned his post.  A look into the Force showed the boy was still deep into his healing trance and he had not left it. Maul stood there, dumbfounded, not sure what to even do as his irritation slowly fizzled out.

It was not until he turned to leave that he heard a faint gasp come from the cell.  He turned back, just in time to see the boy suddenly shoot upright, eyes wide with fear.

“Leia…!”

He turned toward Maul, and there was an awkward moment where he just _stared_ at him… before Maul suddenly found himself flying back.  He hit the bars of the cell opposite the boy’s, and he barely had the chance to recover before the bars of his cell suddenly hit _him_ as the boy used the Force to rip them out of the floor and ceiling.  Maul just let out a pained groan as he watched him sprint from the room, not about to even _try_ to go after him.

 _Skywalkers._ They were far too much trouble.

~.oOOo.~

The longer they were in hyperspace, the harder it was for Hera to fight against the urge to panic.  Everywhere around her, people were trying to find some way past whatever remote lock had been placed on the navicomputer.  So far, not even a hard disconnect and reconnect had done anything to even force them back into real space. If they did not get something to work soon, they would pop back out in the very heart of the Empire, with more Star Destroyers gunning for them than she cared to think about.

Shouting from the entrance to the bridge caught her attention, and Hera turned to see Han limping toward her, with Wedge struggling to get him to go back to the medbay.  He finally gave up when he was shoved into a console, throwing his hands up and leaving Han to finish his shambled walk toward her.

“I know what this is,” he said.  Hera stared a moment, before urging him to continue.  “It’s a drive slave; hijackers hook it directly into the hyperdrive and control it by remote.  That’s why messing with the navicomputer isn’t working.”

“Then we just need to dismantle whatever’s connected to the hyperdrive,” Hera said, about ready to call on someone to do just that, when Han shook his head.

“If you tamper with that thing, it’ll force the hyperdrive into an immediate shut down,” he explained.  “Assuming the sudden stop doesn’t kill us — or worse — we’re not going to have much of a ship left to do anything with.”

“Then what can we do, Captain Solo?” Hera asked, intimately aware that activity behind her had stopped, with everyone listening in on their conversation.  Han seemed to notice it too, if the way he shifted uncomfortably was any clue, hiding his unease with a lopsided grin.

“Two things, General,” he began.  “We can find the guy that’s controlling the hyperdrive and beat the crap out of him for the slave controls.  Or, I can brute force my way into the drive using the Falcon’s navicomputer; it’s got better protocols than this hunk of junk.”

The captain bristled in the background as Hera hesitated; this sounded like it was relying mostly on dumb luck, but she did not see very many options they could take.

“Do what you can, Captain,” she said, before turning to the rest of the crew.  “I want all hands to report in immediately! Look for anyone that doesn’t respond!”

~.oOOo.~

Leia’s head felt like it was floating independently from her body as consciousness returned, making her wish she was still unconscious.  She blinked hard against the spinning world around her, trying to shift her position, only to realize her hands were cuffed behind her back.  The last few seconds before blacking out came flooding back and she let out a grunt, trying to focus enough to reach out to the Force, but it kept slipping from her grasp.

“Good, you’re awake.  I don’t have to carry you.”

Leia paused, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath, counting off in her head, before opening them again.  Everything still felt hazy, but she could focus enough to see a very familiar face wearing armor she also recognized, despite never seeing Mandalorian armor in person before.

Lucky was actually Boba Fett?  The most notorious bounty hunter in the galaxy?  How had no one caught that?

“I don’t suppose I could try to counter my own bounty, can I?”

Fett let out a rude noise, holding up a data reader.  It had her bounty information on it with an astronomical sum attached.

“Okay… so I can’t top that,” she conceded, her eyes flicking over to the cargo container the bounty hunter had been messing with.  He clearly had his armor in there before, as he was pulling out his helmet from inside, and possibly planned on stuffing her in there before she woke up.  She did not even want to think about how disorienting it would have been to wake up in a stuffy container in complete darkness.

“That can’t be the reason you were here,” she said as he put on that helmet, trying to keep him preoccupied, stall for as long as she could.  Someone had to realize she had gone missing, right? “You infiltrated the Rebellion long before my bounty was that high. Why?”

Fett paused, and she could easily picture the look on his face as he stared at her, trying to decide if he should answer her.

“My previous client wanted to have you watched.  Paid a hefty price up front to ensure your protection, along with a weekly salary for putting up with you ‘freedom fighters’.”

An emotion Leia could not put a name to welled up in her chest as she held her gaze on the bounty hunter, before letting it drift away from him.  It was not really a big mystery who could have hired him, who could have had the _money_ to pay a man with Fett’s reputation a _salary,_ and she… she did not know what to _do_ with that information.  The bounty hunter came to stand in front of her after a moment, one hand resting on his gun, mostly for show.

“Get up and shut up,” he ordered.  “The bounty says alive only. It says nothing about the condition you gotta be in when I deliver you.”

When Leia stubbornly refused to even try to get up, he reached for her with his free hand.  She gathered the Force around her, feeling it respond finally — sluggish still, but enough that she could possibly shove him away.  Just before he could grab her, before she could do anything, a black gloved hand shot out of the darkness, intercepting Fett’s hand.  It forced his hand away from her, and Leia looked up to see a pair of blue eyes focused on the bounty hunter, bright with anger.

“Keep your hands off my sister.”


	23. Twins

Wedge let out a grunt as he ran as fast as he could down the hallway, a massively long cable hodge-podged together from  _ many  _ others of the same type trailing behind him.  The idea was to directly connect the  _ Falcon _ ’s navicomputer to the one on the bulk cruiser, and hoping the two computers could work in sync well enough to break through the slave attached to the hyperdrive.  It was beyond a long shot; sure Han had faith in his ship’s navigation protocols, but he was about the only one that did. Not to mention how it would be a stang miracle if they even got a connection, considering how hastily the cable he was hauling was spliced together.

By the time he made it to the  _ Falcon,  _ he was wheezing for air.  He handed off the cable before he doubled over, clutching his knees.

“W-what are our ch-chances of this actually working?” he gasped out as Han hooked up the extension cable.  3PO was next to him to assist in facilitating communications between the two computers, and the fussy droid perked up at the question.

“Sir, I believe the odds of success are three hundred and seventy-five to one.”

Both Han and Wedge stopped, staring at each other for a moment, before the former turned an irate glare on the droid.

“Look, gold dome, all I need you to do is make sure the two computers play nice with each other, not spout numbers!” he snapped, jabbing an offending finger in the droid’s face.  3PO jumped as much as a droid could possibly jump, before shuffling off to fuss over one of the consoles, muttering about how he did not understand human behavior. Han’s expression soured as he watched him, before he shook his head.

“Someone truly evil built that droid,” he muttered under his breath, crouching down to put together the last of the connections.  As soon as the last plug was in, however, all the lights in the  _ Falcon  _ immediately snapped off, the glow from the computer monitors included.

“Oh what  _ now?!”  _ Han demanded, springing back up to his feet and smacking at a nearby bulkhead.  There was a whine as the ship attempted to power back up, but it cut out almost immediately, keeping them all in the dark.

“Guess that Luke kid really did a number on this thing,” Wedge muttered, worry creeping into his voice as a pounding sound came from somewhere in the ship.  Biggs burst into the room a moment later, looking like he was out of breath.

“Have you guys seen Leia?” he asked.  “She’s not reporting in. Neither is Maul.”

Han cast a worried look at Wedge, looking torn.  He could tell the other Corellian wanted to run right out of the ship and find her, despite the fact that he needed to stay and get this crazy plan of his working.  It was not exactly a big secret how he felt about the former princess; they all got it, really. Leia may have been one of the guys on the squad, but she was Han’s girl, even if he was a complete idiot about how to actually  _ tell her  _ as much.  Wedge waved him off after a moment.

“Go on; I’ll grab Chewie,” he insisted.  “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Han gave him one last worried look, before he nodded, heading out of the ship with Biggs.

~.oOOo.~

Neither Leia nor Maul had responded to the call to check in, and Hera was already fearing the worst.  The thought that Maul might have betrayed them entered her head briefly, though she had dismissed it just as quickly.  Maul was fond of Leia like he had been fond of Ezra; he would not hurt her, and she would not let him either. The only reason they both were not responding had to be that they were in trouble.  A quick inquiry around the ship led her down to the brig, and what was probably the most ridiculous sight she had ever seen.

Maul was pinned between two cell bar sets, only one of which was actually attached as it should have been.  He looked utterly tired and a little frustrated, but he still peered up at her as she entered, waving as best as he could manage.

“Hello, Hera,” he greeted her amicably.  “As you can see, I’m a bit pinned up at the moment.  So sorry I couldn’t answer my comlink.”

Hera rolled her eyes as she approached, eyeing the ruined cell across from him.  Their captured agent was nowhere to be found of course, and it bothered her a little that he could so easily get the jump on Maul like this when even Vader had struggled to keep pace with him.  She shook her head after a moment, turning her focus to the bars instead and grabbed them, trying to get them to move. They creaked loudly, but otherwise did not budge. She tried again, Maul doing his part to push them, still with no success.

“Maul, Leia’s missing as well,” she began, looking around for some other way to get it off.  “Can you sense her?”

Maul fell quiet a moment, a far away look on his face, like he was seeing beyond the room.  She was used to that look, had seen both Kanan and Ezra look like that when they were trying to find something through the Force.  The dark expression that came to his face a moment later, however, made Vader’s mask look friendly.

“Cargo hold,” he murmured.  “I sense ill intent around her; someone has her.”

Hera’s eyes widened at that, though she did not have time to comment as Maul motioned her back.  The cell bars suddenly shot off of him, and the zabrak half collapsed to the ground, metal feet clanging as he struggled to stay upright.

“Why didn’t you just do that before?” she demanded, earning herself a withering glare, before Maul shook his head, leaning heavily against the wall.

“I am  _ far  _ too old for any of this.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke did not know much about Mandalorians outside of what was taught to him in school: they were humans that valued the art of war above everything else.  There had been an attempt to bring a more pacifistic view to the culture during the later years of the Republic, but that ended with the murder of Duchess Kryze, supposedly at the hands of the Jedi.  Beyond that, he did not think there was much else to know, but it seemed the bounty hunter that wore their armor was more than happy to prove him wrong, especially when he slammed a gloved fist into his face, sending him flying off his feet and slamming into a container.  He could already feel a trickle of blood making its way down his face, and he suspected those gauntlets of his had some kind of metal lining to them.

He let out a faint noise as he shook himself out, wiping the blood from his face as he heard the hunter stalking toward him.  Luke ducked down as he got close, charging forward and ramming into him as hard as he could. The Mandalorian staggered back maybe an inch, before grabbing him by the back of his shirt, tossing him aside like a ragdoll, leaving him skidding along the floor.  Luke was… really out of his element here; bar brawling against some career drunks was entirely different from this guy. He definitely needed help, but he did not think anyone here would answer if he yelled.

He shuffled back as the Mandalorian stalked over to him, biting his lip, before finally reaching a hand up and calling on the Force.  Thankfully it responded the way he wanted it to, the nearby boxes tumbling down on top of the hunter. Luke paused a moment, making sure he actually got him, before he scrambled back up to his feet, moving to hurry back to Leia and help.  A flair of warning shot through his senses and he threw himself to the side, just missing a blaster shot aimed at his back. He realized, too late, that the shot was a distraction for the flash bang grenade that clattered near him. His arm came up, trying to protect his eyes as he threw himself to the side, but was not fast enough to adequately shield himself before the weapon went off.

A dull ringing noise filled Luke’s ears as he squeezed his eyes shut.  He knew what was supposed to happen; he knew his vision was supposed to go white for a few seconds before it came back, though the disorientation and ringing in his ears would linger.  Those few seconds felt like  _ hours,  _ especially since he did not know what the bounty hunter was doing.

Until he kicked him in the gut anyway.

Luke let out a grunt he could not hear as he landed on the ground, only to get another kick to his side.  His vision swam as it started to come back, and he struggled against the urge to throw up, trying to move away.  He ended up freezing when he felt something metal pressed against his head, and he did not need to be able to see properly to know it was the barrel of a blaster.  Luke felt panic hit him hard as he expected his life to come to a quick, sudden end.

The gun at his head was quickly removed, and Luke felt himself let out a confused noise.  He turned his head, blinking hard to clear away the last shades of white, only to see the bounty hunter stumbling away, a blue and white astrodroid hot on his heels, squirting what looked like oil at him.  He felt a hand on his arm in the next moment, and he whipped his head around to see Leia by his side, her mouth moving, but he still could hear well enough to tell what she was saying. He shook his head, prompting Leia to press her hands against his temples, and he felt the Force wrap around him, easing the pain and disorientation.  A grateful look came to his face, giving her a soft smile that she did not seem to know what to do with — not that he blamed her. He reached up, resting a hand over hers.

“Leia…” he began, but a loud screech cut him off before he could say anything more.  They both turned, just in time to see the astrodroid from before zooming by, a small rocket hot on his wheeled heels.

“Artoo!” Leia shouted after him, only to turn again as the bounty hunter emerged from where he had been chased off to.  The two of the paused, exchanging looks, before they stood up together. They lurched forward, their fists slamming into the glass visor of his helmet, hard enough to crack it and force him to stumble back in surprise.  The two of them extended their arms as one, reaching out to the Force together and send the Mandalorian flying over a cargo container.

They paused, before turning to each other again.  A smile crept onto Luke’s face again, and she seemed a little more inclined to return it this time.  He opened his mouth to try to say something, when a shot rang out, a durasteel cord suddenly wrapping around them both.  They both yelped, wobbling unsteadily before they hit the ground, bound together and barely able to move. Luke heard the bounty hunter approach them, but could not see where he was until he kicked him in the back.

“Vader betraying the Empire by trying to protect the pilot that destroyed the Death Star, the pilot herself, and an extra Jedi tossed into the mix,” he began.  “Me ‘n the Emperor are gonna have a nice, long chat about how much money he owes me—”

The Mandalorian cut himself off, letting out a jerking, stuttering shout, before there was a loud  _ bang  _ as he hit the deck plates.  A strange, almost offended look came to Leia’s face as she looked up, and Luke struggled to crane his head around to see who it was that saved them.  He caught sight of an elderly gentleman in an Imperial uniform, a gentle smile under the thick, stark white moustache on his face.

“You Rebels really need to improve your security, Miss Organa,” he said as the bounty hunter let out a groan.  The elderly gentleman merely jabbed at him with the cane he was holding, sending an electric charge through his armor, and the man fell still again.

“And who are you?” Leia demanded, drawing a faint noise out of the man.

“Forgive me; where are my manners?” he began, taking his cap off and bowing politely.  “Inspector Thanoth, and your service, my dear.”

Luke let out a faint noise at that.  “You’re Lord Vader’s new—” he began, only to cut himself off, almost saying “babysitter”.  “...adjutant.”

The elderly inspector seemed to know what he wanted to say, if the amused light in his eyes was any indication.  He knelt down after a moment, pulling a hand tool from his pocket and carefully snipping through the durasteel cord.

“I’m certain Lord Vader has other words for it, but yes, I am,” he replied.  Once the cord was off of them, he gathered up the pieces, using them to bind the bounty hunter’s arms and legs together.  “It was by his… well, I suppose ‘request’ is appropriate, that I am here. He was concerned he would not be able to keep a hold on his man here, should the full scope of Miss Organa’s actions be brought to light.”

Luke turned to Leia as they stood, taking in the conflicted look on her face.  He reached out to her, fingers hesitantly brushing her arm, and she turned toward him.  Understanding passed between them, a silent promise that he knew she was hurting and there was not much he could do to help her, but she was entitled to what she was feeling and he would  _ be there  _ for her.  She held his gaze a moment, looking as if her emotions would get the better of her, before she nodded.

“Leia!”

Their heads snapped up, just in time to see Biggs —  _ Biggs!  _ He was still alive! — and that pilot burst into the room, the little droid from before rolling up behind them, grumbling out beeps.  There was an awkward pause as they stared at each other, before the pilot fumbled, trying to pull his blaster on Luke.

“Get away from her you—!”

“Han!” Leia snapped before he could finish that sentence.  “It’s all right.”

The pilot — Han — stared at her, mouth working like he was a fish, but Leia ignored him.  She turned back to the bounty hunter, kneeling down as the pilot muttered something about Boba Fett being there.  Luke paused, his gaze lingering on Biggs a moment, before he turned his attention to his sister.

“He has something on him that’s controlling the ship,” she explained without prompting, and Luke nodded, helping her pat the Mandalorian down as a comlink chirped.  He heard Han grumble under his breath, answering it, and an unfamiliar voice filtered over the small hand unit, accompanied with a wookiee growl.

“I think we got it, Han! We’re gonna give it a shot!”

Han’s mouth was poised to tell the person on the other side to wait, when a sudden loud  _ bang  _ echoed through the ship.  Luke and Leia froze, exchanging worried looks, before they felt the familiar tug of a ship exiting hyperspace.  Silence filled the cargo hold, no one daring to breathe, only to have the ship suddenly rock sharply, nearly knocking them all off balance.  An emergency alarm went off in the next moment, and both Leia and Biggs looked like they were going to dash for the hanger. They both hesitated, with Leia’s gaze drifting to Luke.  He offered her a gentle smile, resting a hand on her arm.

“Go,” he urged her softly.  “We’ll go to the bridge and help however we can.”

Leia hesitated again, looking up to Thanoth, who nodded in agreement.  She swallowed hard, her gaze going back to Luke, and he could tell there was so much she wanted to say, but could not get the words out.  Instead, she nodded, pushing herself away and running out of the room with Biggs and the droid not that far behind.

~.oOOo.~

Hera had left Maul to find Leia the moment they heard the bang echo through the ship, immediately running for the bridge.  What she saw once she got there was something out of any Rebel’s nightmares: a small fleet of Star Destroyers surrounded them, with the faint glow of a nearby planet half hidden behind them.  They were not at Coruscant, she could tell that much immediately, but they were close enough that they were still in serious trouble. The only thing they had going for them right now was  _ no one  _ expected them to suddenly show up, but that would not last for long.

“Divert all energy to the forward shields!” she shouted.  “Get the navicomputer going; I don’t care where we jump to, just get us out of here!”

The bridge became a flurry of activity immediately, just as the turbolaser batteries of the nearest Star Destroyer opened up on them.  The shields absorbed most of the assault, though the ship still rocked from the impact.

“Shields holding steady, General!”

“We’re picking up TIE fighter signals heading out way!”

Hera blew out a breath; because of course a company this close to the core would have fighters on standby at all times.

“Scramble our fighters, and prepare to take evasive action!” Hera ordered.  “Navigation status?”

“Navicomputer’s struggling, General,” the young man at the computer called back.  “Everything we were doing to it before has pushed it to its limits. Could be fifteen minutes before it comes back up; maybe longer.”

She  _ really  _ did not need to hear that.  How were they supposed to hold off fighters and keep themselves from being shot out of space for that long?  Just as she was about to say something, anything to ensure that moral stayed up, a shout caught her attention.  She turned to see the agent they had captured and another Imperial — apparently they were multiplying outside  _ and  _ inside the ship! — with Han and Maul trailing behind them both.  Maul looked like he was going to reach over and rip the boy’s hair out, but he ignored him, keeping his focus on Hera as he walked right up to her before stopping.

“Permission to assist in the defense of the ship, General?” he requested, and Hera paused, staring at him in surprise.  Most of the Imperials she had interacted with had not taken her seriously. Only Grand Admiral Thrawn had considered her a real opponent, but any human Imperial refused to even acknowledge her rank.  Hera’s eyes flicked over to the man with him, who seemed to be deferring to Luke, even though he clearly would otherwise be the senior officer between them.

“General,” Luke began again, his voice soft, but there was something in his tone that just made her turn her focus back to him.  “I don’t want to be this close to Coruscant just as much as you do. Please let us help.”

Hera let out a breath, her gaze flicking over to Maul a moment.  He seemed agitated, though she suspected that had less to do with Luke and more to do with the situation in general.  Even without the former Sith’s confirmation, she could still feel the sincerity in the young agent’s words, and she ended up blowing out a sigh as she nodded.  Luke spared her a grateful look, before he was suddenly all business, turning to the other Imperial.

“Inspector, do you know the ship-to-ship transponder codes for the home fleets?” he asked the older man.  He paused at his question, a slow smile twitching his moustache up.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.  “Would you like to have the Rebellion ships broadcast dummy Imperial signals?”

Luke nodded.  “It’s a trick that will only work once, but at the very least, it’ll keep the fighters confused and force them to rely on visual instead of their HUDs.”

The two Imperials split at that, with the Inspector going to the communications console, politely asking the man seated at it if he could take over.  Luke, meanwhile, had someone hand him over a headset, his focus on the display showing the location of the ships outside in relations to their own. Hera watched, a bit of fascination coming to her face, when an annoyed noise caught her attention.  She turned to see Han looking like he was going to blow a gasket, his gaze flicking over to her as if silently asking how she could let this happen.

“Captain,” she began, hoping giving him something to do would prevent any explosions, “the  _ Falcon _ ’s navicomputer is still connected, correct?  Can you have it calculate an escape route?”

Han glared at the young agent’s back, narrowing his eyes.  If Luke was aware of the glares he was getting, he did not show it, his focus on the display as it started to light up with a shower of green as their own fighters launched.

“Yeah… yeah, we can do that,” Han finally grumbled, his gaze briefly flicking back to Hera, before turning away and stalking off as he took out his comlink.

~.oOOo.~

The swarm of TIE fighters that had assaulted them over the Death Star had been intense, but that seemed like nothing in the face of a core home fleet. Leia kept a white knuckle grip on her flight stick as she dove into battle, Biggs and Wedge at her sides and R2 at her back. She had already seen their new Red Leader go up in flames, and his second was floundering to make up for his loss. It took every bit of effort she had not to take over command, seeing opportunities that he was missing, trying to think of how to save as many as she could and protect the ship, and—

“All fighters, we have help coming your way soon. Hold the line for another minute.”

That… was her brother’s voice. Her brother with the kind face and gentle smile. He did not look like an Imperial, did not  _ act  _ like an Imperial, nor anything like the kind of person that would nearly kill a man in cold blood. He was  _ helping,  _ and she did not know how to respond to that. 

“Hey, what’s with the computer…?” she heard Wedge ask, drawing her attention down to her display. Even though she knew it was Biggs and Wedge at her side, the HUD was displaying them as enemy fighters. Their signals were masked with Imperial ones, which meant…

“How are we supposed to know who’s who?” she heard someone ask, and Leia gripped her control yolk harder. This was a  _ dumb  _ plan, but just crazy enough to work. 

“Use visual scanning,” she ordered, not even thinking about trying to keep herself from taking command now.

“Those eyeballs are going to be damn hard to see, Five,” Biggs pointed out. 

“Maybe so, but we have a greater range of vision,” Leia replied. “Four, Six, on me; keep to the sides, below, or above. Anywhere but directly in front of them.”

“Right with ‘ya, boss!” Wedge exclaimed as they shot forward, excitement clear in his voice. 

They dove beneath the enemy line, leaving a confused mass of TIE fighters struggling to keep them in their sights. With the ball cockpit of the fighters only able to really take in the area in front of them, Imperial pilots greatly relied on tactical displays to know what else was around them. With everyone showing up as ally green, they could not tell if the ships in their blind spots were friend or foe. It allowed them to pinch in, mowing down several fighters before they had the chance to even move, let alone scatter off. The Force felt like it was  _ glowing  _ around her as a result, and it took her a moment to realize it was her brother, practically beaming with pride and adoration. 

It was hard  _ not  _ to smile at the feeling. 

“Hey there,” Han’s voice cut over the com. “Gimme two minutes, and I’ll have a route for you guys.”

Two minutes… they would not be able to load up, so that meant they would be jumping separately, and that’s assuming there was not an Interdictor ship keeping them from entering hyperspace.

“Are we going to have a clear jump, command?” she asked, and there was a pause before Thanoth’s voice responded. 

“I see an Interdictor on the scopes, but not to worry. The way will be clear when the captain’s route is complete.”

She really wished she had his confidence. Interdictor-class ships were heavily armored and well guarded; their chances of taking one down were next to none, but at the moment, they really had no choice but to believe him. 

“All pilots, have your astrodroids pre-calculate jump vectors,” she ordered; that should cut down time once they got coordinates. Now if nothing else showed up—

“We’ve got squints coming in!”

Of course they did; the stock TIE Advanced was not as terrifying to encounter as Vader’s personalized ship, but with shields, it would certainly make their lives difficult.

“The plan doesn’t change, they’re just harder to kill,” Leia pointed out. “Keep at it, we’re almost through this.”

They  _ were  _ almost through this, right? Leia felt a flicker of doubt worm its way into her head, even as she let loose on a TIE that latched onto Wedge. Her brother’s comforting presence reached out to her almost immediately, wrapping around her like an encouraging hug, his tune in the Force humming softly with her. It was then she realized that he felt so  _ weak;  _ he had not fully recovered, and fighting against Boba Fett had taken a lot out of him. But he was still holding on, still doing his best to support her, and the unquestionable affection chased away the ill thoughts she had been holding onto for the last few days, at least for the moment. 

Determination renewed, Leia dove right into the thick of it, Biggs and Wedge still with her as they plowed through the endless stream of TIE fighters. The Star Destroyers were not firing at least; there was no way they could rely on visual scanning unless a fighter was right on top of them. As she came about for another pass, however, a distinctly different ship from the others caught her eye, one whose gravity well generators would keep them from going to hyperspace. 

“Command, I have visual on the Interdictor,” she announced. There was a pause, before…

“Leia.”

Luke’s voice made her pause, anticipation rising up in her throat.

“The central focusing array is located on the bottom of the ship, protected by two heavy turbo laser mounts and a missile launcher, as well as a ray shield and reinforced durasteel plating,” he explained.  _ “You  _ can destroy that array, and we’ll be able to make the jump.”

Leia took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This sounded like something out of stories from the Clone Wars that Obi-Wan would tell her; crazy escapades her father would do that should  _ not  _ have worked, yet he somehow made it happen. It did not help that it sounded like something she would come up with as well. 

“Biggs, Wedge, break off; I’ve got this,” she ordered. 

“Be careful, Leia,” Biggs murmured faintly as the two of them broke away, leaving Leia to shoot off for the Interdictor alone. 

~.oOOo.~

Maul was determined not to let that damn boy out of his sight, even though he was aware of the fact that his presence on the bridge was only making the tension everyone was feeling that much worse. Luke, in stark contrast to the people taking uneasy glances in his direction, did not even seem to notice he was there. Perhaps he was used to the presence of dark clouds of murderous intent, or perhaps he was genuinely worried about his sister out there. 

Though if that was the case, he would not have sent her on a suicide run. Maul stalked toward him as he saw Leia’s ship shoot off toward the Interdictor, grabbing the boy by the arm and tugging hard enough to nearly wrench it out of the socket. He turned toward him then, finally acknowledging him with a small frown. 

“You are going to get her killed,” Maul hissed, the promise of death if she so much as got a scrape clear in his voice. The boy rolled his eyes, shrugging him off in annoyance. 

“She’s my sister,” he replied softly. “She’s just as good of a pilot as I am. Maybe better. She can do this.”

Maul very nearly snarled at that, having half a mind to remind him that he had only just met her and knew her for a few minutes. Luke was ignoring him again, however, his focus entirely on watching Leia, like he could see her spinning around enemy fire as if she were directly in front of him. A tense moment of silence passed, and a quick look around showed that just about everyone was watching as well. 

“Target eliminated!” Leia’s voice suddenly came over the com, breathless with exhilaration.

“Gravity reading have stabilized,” a tech reported.

“I’m getting coordinates streaming in from the  _ Falcon  _ now!”

“Sending out to our fighters as it comes in!”

Maul glanced behind him to see Hera sag slightly in relief.

“All fighters, get clear and make your jump as soon as you’re able,” she ordered.  “We’ll see you all at the rendezvous.”

A chorus of acknowledgements came back, and Maul felt rather than saw Leia leave, having the clearest shot at open space.  The other fighters left on by one, though he did not relax until the swirl of hyperspace filled the viewport in front of them, and excited cheers filled the bridge.  The boy beside him let out a soft breath, sagging slightly, before he took off his headset and offered it back to the tech that gave it to him.

“That was impressive,” Hera said as she approached, drawing Luke’s attention to her.  “I believe we owe you one.”

The boy smiled softly at that.  “I believe I owe you more than just that.”

Hera raised an eyebrow at him as the elderly Imperial came to join them.

“I’d like to hear what you have to say,” she replied after a moment.

The boy opened his mouth to respond, only to pause.  Maul noticed then just how pale his face was around the bruising he suffered at the hands of Boba Fett, and he moved to catch him just as the boy’s legs gave out.  Luke trembled with exhaustion in his grasp, clinging to his arm with his prosthetic hand.

“R-respectfully, General?” he began.  “If that offer of medical treatment is still open, I’d like that first.”


	24. Shu-torun

Princess Trios knew from a very young age that her sole purpose to her family was to serve as a replacement.  Monthan, the eldest, was born to be king once their father passed on. He was already known to be wise beyond his years, and the people of Shu-torun looked forward to his future rule.  First daughter Hollian would be the Celebant Warlord, head of the War-faith, and she was already a cunning warrior and shrewd commander. Then there was her, the second daughter, the  _ spare;  _ expected to fill either role should it ever be required of her, yet not well versed in either, largely because she was not  _ needed. _

Except when she suddenly was, which was why she found herself approaching the  _ Lambda- _ class shuttle as if she were marching to her death.

The boarding ramp hissed as it was lowered, barely heard over the churning lava flows far below them.  Shu-torun was a relatively new world as far as planets were concerned, able to sustain an atmosphere yet inhospitable on the surface, with the majority of the planet covered in either solid rock or magma that flowed like water.  Yet their people had thrived in the absence of more favorable conditions; they were a mining people, and had mastered the art of the forge with the lava that surrounded them, bending it to their will and using it to power their mighty delving citadels.  They broke apart the rock for the ore within, refining it into material the galaxy craved. They were the number one supplier of such goods in the Empire, though after the Death Star’s destruction, their expected quotas rose. The ore-dukes raised their voices in outrage, and her father began withholding shipments, failing to meet those tithes out of pure spite and rebellion towards a careless Emperor.

The Emperor was making it very clear that he would not tolerate such thinly veiled hostility, in the form of the jet black shadow that was descending the ramp of the shuttle.  Rumors and tall tales were nothing in the face of the Emperor’s right hand man; Lord Vader’s height alone was enough to make even the most battle hardened of men take a step back in fright.  Somehow she managed to remain rooted to the ground, despite how much she wanted to run off.

“You have disappointed me, Princess Trios,” the Dark Lord boomed over the roar of the lava below.  “I was expecting your father.”

Trios could not help the mild surprise that reached her face.  She did not believe herself important enough that the lord would care to know her name before arriving.

“While my father’s mind is as sharp as ever, he is not as swift as he once was,” she explained after collecting herself.  “The king has arranged a little celebration to showcase our culture while he makes his way to us.”

She almost dared to say that the display below would impress the Dark Lord, but he already seemed bored, if the way his head was canted was any indication.  He shifted to the side, and it was then Trios realized he was not alone; two Imperial officers accompanied him. It was likely they were the pilot and co-pilot of the shuttle, considering their ranks of lieutenant and ensign respectively.  She could not help but marvel slightly at the ensign, however; she had never seen a woman in Imperial uniform before.

She did not have long to dwell on her presence; the Imperials were already starting toward the entrance of her family’s citadel, and she turned to accompany them.  It was then she spotted the large, ornate box the Dark Lord was carrying — so odd he would do so, considering his pilots were more suited for such a task.

“Our servants can help you with that, Lord Vader,” she offered.

“No,” Vader replied shortly.  “It is a gift for Shu-torun’s ruler I wish to deliver personally.  It is a reminder the Empire is both a powerful friend, and a dangerous enemy.”

Trios felt her blood run cold at that, an unsettled feeling churning in her gut.  Why did she feel like she was not going to be the only one to die today…?

~.oOOo.~

Danres wanted  _ so much  _ to tug at the collar of her borrowed uniform.  She could understand now why Imps were so uptight; wearing a uniform that was constantly strangling you would do that to just about anyone.  The sweltering heat of Shu-torun was not helping matters much, and a quick glance at Tanbris proved they were thinking the same thing: just like being back on Mustafar.  Small wonder why Vader did not seem to be bothered by it; it probably reminded him of home.

Somehow, she managed to keep in step with Tanbris as they headed inside, the sound of the lava flows fading as the door closed behind them.  She glanced around, making sure they were not being watched, before slipping a hand toward her wrist com, pressing a button and sending a signal to BT-1.  Pretty soon, him and Triple Zero would be making their way into the palace separately, sneaking into the throne room and… doing what they did best. Danres managed to keep herself from grimacing at the thought; she understood Vader’s logic behind this one.  This time around it was not a  _ bad  _ plan, she just hated the fact that it would come at the expense of someone’s innocence.  Princess Trios seemed too nice to be caught up in this madness.

They followed the princess far into the depths of the palace, and Danres found herself exchanging knowing glances with Tanbris again.  There was a definite lack of guards around that was hard to miss. Vader had warned them they were probably going to need to deliberately trip a trap, and it seemed already that his caution was well founded.

She forgot about that for a moment as they stepped into the Abyssal Chambers.  The massive ballroom was bedecked with veins of gold and other precious metals she could only guess at on sight, bringing out the natural beauty of the stone walls.  Sheer silk banners hung from the royal box balcony and the ceiling, floating in place like shimmering clouds of vibrant color. Lords and Ladies from all over Shu-torun were spread out over the dance floor, their wide gowns and frilly overcoat tails just hiding the gold ladened floor.  There was just so  _ much  _ opulence to take in, that Tanbris had to nudge at Danres to stop her from gawking.

“Please be upstanding for Lord Vader, and begin the stately Shu-torun counter-bore waltz,” the princess commanded, her voice ringing clear in the massive chamber.  The music swelled immediately and partners joined as one in dance, lights from finger decorations sweeping about the air, creating dizzying patterns. Danres felt herself being nudged again, and she turned to see Tanbris  _ trying  _ to give her an admonishing look, but he was fighting too hard against a smile for it to be effective.

“All this…  _ dancing…  _ is unnecessary,” they heard Vader mutter, and they both had to suppress a laugh.  Danres was willing to bet anything the Dark Lord did not even know how to dance.

Princess Trios did not seem happy with Vader’s lack of enthusiasm, and began to explain the planet’s intensely courtly culture, but Danres was no longer paying attention to them.  Something felt off, and it took her a moment to realize that the ballroom, like the hallways leading to it, were notably lacking in guards. That was… worrisome, especially since they had to be pretty far underground, beneath the lava flows…

Danres was interrupted from her thoughts as one of the ore-dukes approached, a young woman in tow that had to be his daughter — hopefully.  It was hard to tell sometimes when it came to royalty.

“Lord Vader,” the duke began, and Danres already knew this was not going to end well, “my daughter wishes to dance.  I must insist.”

Vader did not even look in the young woman’s direction, his mask fixed on the duke, and it was fairly easy to imagine he was glaring at him.  Trios must have thought so as well, as she stepped forward.

“Duke Rubix, I must warn against this…”

“No, I must insist he dance,” Duke Rubix replied obstinately.  “The insult will not be borne. If one is here, one  _ must  _ dance.”

There was a very pregnant pause, and Danres found herself holding her breath.  She did not doubt Vader would not care about killing the man, but the question was, would he when it was already very clear they were in the middle of a trap?

“Very well,” Vader finally responded, raising a hand.  Instead of choking, however, Rubix was lifted up into the air, spinning and twirling about.  Vader stepped forward as the duke began shouting, red in the face, and the dancers all stopped, parting to allow the Dark Lord through.  Tanbris let out a snort next to her, and Danres had to smother a laugh as well, realizing Vader was moving his hand to the beat of the music as he spun the duke around.  He was having  _ fun;  _  she knew he would never admit it, but she imagined him smiling beneath that mask.

It was a moment before Vader let the duke go, leaving him to drop unceremoniously to the floor.

“Does anyone  _ else  _ wish to be my partner?” he asked, his booming voice echoing through the ballroom.  Silence answered him, and Vader turned to leave. “I thought—”

Before the Dark Lord could finish, a rumble filled the chamber, followed by a loud crash as a vehicle broke through the ceiling.  Danres and Tanbris sprung forward, heading toward Vader as the dancers fled, not seeming nearly as panicked as they probably should have been.  The Dark Lord’s lightsaber was lit as the ramp to the tunneling vehicle folded down, and the two of them were pulling their blasters as troops trampled down the ramp.  They were holding massive, cannon-like weapons, and Danres suspected they were modified mining lasers.

“Death to the Empire!” he one in the lead shouted.  “Down with the King!”

How nice of them to announce they were against the king as well, because that would  _ totally  _ absolve him of involvement.  Danres let out a rude noise as her and Tanbris started firing, just as the attackers opened fire with their mining lasers.  She ended up letting out a yelp as one blast came way too close, the massive beam generating so much heat, she swore her clothes would burn without it touching her.  Despite the difference from normal laser blasts, Vader’s lightsaber deflected the bolts of energy without issue, and the Dark Lord ensured the only ones hit were the attackers themselves.

Tanbris was the one to pick off the last of the “assassins,” and Danres allowed herself a breath as the man fell to the ground with a loud  _ clunk  _ of his armor.  She turned to see Trios was still there, looking visibly shaken, though she had a feeling it was not because of the “threat” to her life.  The princess spared the two of them a glance before turning her focus to Vader, though he barely turned back toward her.

“I will see the king,” he demanded.   _ “Immediately.” _

Vader was definitely annoyed now, though whether it was because of the attempt on his life, or the fact that it was a  _ feeble  _ attempt, Danres could not guess.

“The elevators will be watched by the assassins of the… traitorous dukes,” Trios replied, her unease almost making her slip out of her act.  “We will have to take the tunnels. I will show you the way.”

Vader finally turned then, giving the princess a long look.  Danres had to give her some credit; under that kind of scrutiny, she would have been squirming.

“Do so,” he replied.

Tanbris stepped up then, standing at attention.  “My lord, we can attempt the elevators,” he said.  “They may be expecting you to brute force your way through; we’ll catch them off guard and meet you in the throne room.”

Vader nodded briefly, and Danres saw the princess stiffen slightly as she started for what she assumed was a tunnel entrance.  She recovered by the time Vader swept around to join her, and they watched as the two of them disappeared behind the wreckage caused by the tunneling vehicle.  Danres waited a moment, making sure they were out of earshot, before turning to Tanbris.

“We’re not really going to the throne room, are we?” she asked.

“Not… by the elevators,” Tanbris replied vaguely.  “Come on then.”

He absently reached for her hand, and Danres found herself staring down at their joined hands in confusion as he led her out of the room.

~.oOOo.~

Trios found herself gazing down the tunnel that would be her grave, waiting for Lord Vader to join her.  It was dimly lit, and it was impossible to see to the end from where they were at. Strange, even knowing she would not be leaving this tunnel, she felt oddly calm.  Death was not as frightening when you knew it was coming, she supposed, especially since it would be quick.

“This way, my lord,” she began, her voice steady.  “We must make haste. If the ore-dukes have more assassins—”

“You are an admirable youth,” Vader cut her off, very nearly making her jump.  “Your father must be proud.”

Trios paused at that, a heavy feeling pulling at her heart.  She turned toward him, attempting to keep a smile on her face.

“You would be surprised, Lord Vader.”

Vader let out a faint noise, following after her as she started off down the tunnel.  Silence surrounded them, save for the echo of their footsteps and Vader’s breathing. When the Dark Lord spoke again, his deep, booming voice seemed softer, almost  _ kind  _ despite his terrifying visage.

“I have a pilot that thought as you do, Princess Trios,” he began.  “During the battle over the Death Star, he felt it wise to sacrifice his life in order to preserve mine.”

Trios felt a chill run down her spine, somehow still managing to walk forward.  Vader  _ knew,  _ yet he was still willingly walking into this trap…?

“You… you must honor him, my lord,” she replied, fighting against a tremble, half expecting a lightsaber to be shoved through her back any moment.

“On the contrary,” Vader replied, “I ensured he would survive, so that I could reprimand him for such foolish actions.”

Trios stopped at that, staring at his back as he proceeded forward.

“Why?”

Vader paused then, silence hanging between them, save for the raspy sound of that respirator he wore.  He did not move, even as the shield wall crashed down behind them, blocking their return to the tunnel entrance near the ballroom, nor when the lava traps above opened, lighting up the tunnel with the molten flow.

“Because, no father should put their life over their own children,” he finally replied.

Vader turned toward the nearest curved wall, his lightsaber coming to life in his hand, but Trios could only stare at his back, frozen in place.  Darth Vader, dreaded lord of the Empire and the Emperor’s right hand… had a son? A child of his own? How could that even be possible? And why was this not something known and celebrated throughout the galaxy?  It was clear that Vader would succeed the Emperor; while Vader’s age was uncertain, Emperor Palpatine was old, and likely would not live another twenty years. A clear display of  _ generations  _ of successors was something any ruler would flaunt for all to see, so that the reach of their power, the fact that it could span across time itself, would be well established.

Unless…

It took a moment for the heat of the lava to melt the cold feeling of dread that settled over her.  By then, Vader was nearly done with cutting a circular hole in the wall of the tunnel.

“You will not find a way out that way, my lord,” she pointed out, but Vader ignored her, finishing his task.  He raised a hand and, like with Duke Rubix, lifted the slab he cut out of the wall with invisible hands, planting it in a pool of steadily expanded lava.  He leapt, cape flapping wildly in the shimmering heat, landing easily on the makeshift raft before he turned back to her.

“Come, princess,” the Dark Lord ordered.  “There are too precious few children such as yourself in the galaxy to allow themselves to be sacrificed by selfish men.”

He held his hand out to her, and Trios found herself hesitating in disbelief.  He had just mercilessly slaughtered those that opposed him, had a reputation for killing those that made the slightest error under his command, yet here he was, offering to save her.  He was refusing to let herself be sacrificed, even if she did not have value in the grand scheme of things, simply because she was being ordered to die by her father.

Not even her siblings had done that.

Trios started forward just before the lava could reach her heels, reaching out to grasp Lord Vader’s hand as she jumped onto the metal slab.

~.oOOo.~

Just as Tanbris expected, troops had been stationed around the obvious paths to the throne room, enough of them to (attempt to) keep the Dark Lord from advancing should the princess have failed to draw him further into their trap.  There were so many of them, and their gaudy, golden armor so easy to spot from a distance, that it was easy for himself and Danres to shuffle around them. They soon found themselves slipping down what had to be the access hallways used by servants to quickly navigate the massive citadel, unmolested by any of the palace staff.

He held on tight to the Rebel woman’s hand the entire way, not giving the action much thought.  He… was just ensuring she would stay with him. So she did not get lost. That was all.

It was a moment before they stopped, Danres pressed close to his side as he leaned around the corner, hearing the clang of Shu-torun armor before he saw the guards marching by.  These patrols seemed to be increasing in frequency; they had to be getting close to the throne room.

“Do you think Triple Zero already… you know?” Danres murmured softly.  Tanbris pulled himself back, turning his attention to her.

“If he was able to use his poisons?  Yes, most likely,” he answered, and Danres let out a soft breath.  He knew they both understood why this needed to be done, but he could also understand why it would not sit will with her.

Tanbris hesitated a moment, before giving her hand a squeeze.

“If… we manage to survive all this, and return Lord Vader to his position as commander of the fleet, I intend to use some of my shore leave time,” he began slowly.  “Perhaps you could… accompany me. Somewhere. Where there’s dancing.”

Danres stared at him for a long moment, slowly raising an eyebrow as he fought against the urge to fidget.

“Do Imperials even  _ know  _ how to dance?” she asked, her tone light and teasing.  Tanbris felt his face warm as a result.

“Yes, of course,” he replied stiffly.  “A basic etiquette class is part of all military programs.  I may not have the same…  _ grace  _ as a Shu-torun noble, but I  _ can  _ dance.”

Danres continued to stare at him, a light in her eyes as she struggled against a laugh.

“It’s a shame Vader didn’t get that class,” she replied.

“I assure you, if Lord Vader was married to a senator as Luke says, even secretly, he  _ knows.” _

The amusement still lingered on her face, though her eyes narrowed slightly in challenge.

“I’ll take that bet,” she said.  “Ten credits says Vader can’t dance to save his life.”

She fell quiet then as the clank of armor echoed down the hall again.  Tanbris leaned around the corner to see if the troops would turn down their way, when he felt Danres’ hand squeeze his.

“...and I’m taking you up on that vacation offer,” she added softly.

Tanbris wanted to kick himself over how hard it was to keep the smile off his face.

~.oOOo.~

They were silent as they floated down the tunnel, at the mercy of the lava flow.  Vader kept his free arm around her, angling his armorweave cape so that it would provide some protection from the heat, though the action only served to draw Trios’ attention to the box he still held on to.  In all the chaos, she had forgotten about it, and thought for certain the Dark Lord had abandoned it. The fact that he still held onto it had her even more curious as to what could be inside.

He tightened his arm around her suddenly, and Trios looked up to see they were approaching an access gantry.  She shuffled closer to him, wrapping her arms around him as best she could, trying not to think about how odd the leather of his bodysuit felt under her hands.  He leapt in the next moment, landing easily on the gantry, before releasing her.

“How long will it take from here?” he asked, his voice remaining low and non-threatening, despite the rasping noise that accompanied it.  Trios tried not to think too hard on it, her mind still stuck on the fact that this terrifying man was sparing her because he seemed to truly understand the responsibilities of being a father, more so than her own.

“Not far,” she answered after a moment, taking point once more as she went for the ladder that would deliver them back to the palace proper.

Silence greeted them as soon as they entered the corridor, and Trios  _ knew  _ that she was about to walk in on something she did not want to see.  Still, she held her head high as she led Vader to the grand hall, not surprised when they came across the first dead royal guard.  She swallowed hard as they stopped before the ornate doors of the throne room, able to hear movement inside, though she  _ knew  _ it was not her family.

Somehow, she managed to keep her hands steady as she reached out, pushing open the doors and revealing the gruesome sight beyond.  Her father was still seated on his throne, slumped over, the gold of his armored vestments stained with blood. His retainers and her siblings were sprawled around him, gaping holes in their chests and small pools of blood surrounding them.  The throne itself remained undamaged, but the surrounding walls and finery had not been so fortunate, massive blast holes and debris scattered everywhere. The two Imperials from before were there, the woman looking like she was torn between being sick, and yelling at the protocol and astromech droids that accompanied them.

“Ah, Master Vader, it’s simply awful!” the protocol droid exclaimed, and Trios got the distinct impression it was being sarcastic.  “Mass heart attacks, the lot of them!”

Trios ignored the droids as she hesitantly approached the throne.  She sunk to the ground before her father’s corpse as the astromech let out beeps that sounded more like metal grinding.

“Well it’s  _ almost  _ true, Beetee,” the protocol droid remarked.  “You  _ did  _ hit their hearts.”

_ “Triple Zero,”  _ the woman hissed, before she turned away from him.  “I’m sorry, Vader; they were already—”

Trios saw Vader cut the woman off with a wave of his hand out of the corner of her eye.  He was silent a moment, allowing her time to mourn, before he approached, finally setting the box he had been carrying on the ground beside her.

“Your majesty, this is yours.”

Trios did not know how she managed to keep back a shudder at the new form of address, nor how she kept her hands steady as she opened the box.  She paused once she saw what was inside, frowning, before reaching in and pulling out what appeared to be just a rock.

“I don’t understand…”

She turned her gaze up to Vader as he shifted, hooking his thumbs into his belt as he stared back down at her.

“As a princess, you served your father,” he began.  “As a queen, you serve your people. The Emperor would wish you to have this as a reminder to those that would defy him.”

He paused, and Trios suddenly felt very, very small in his shadow, a feeling of cold dread creeping up her spine.

“This is all that remains of Alderaan.”

Trios let out a gasp, dropping the cursed rock in shock.  Silence echoed in the hollowed room, and it was a moment before Vader reached his hand out, using those powers of his to call the rock to his hands.

_ “I,  _ however, am entrusting this to you.”

_ “Entrusting?!”  _ she exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.  Vader paused again, giving her a moment to calm down.

“The destruction of the Death Star has made those that would rebel against the Emperor overconfident,” he explained.  “Had your father continued to listen to the will of the ore-dukes, Shu-torun would have suffered a similar fate.”

She understood, of course; just because Shu-torun was the main supplier of rare minerals and ores, did not mean they were the  _ only  _ supplier.  They were just as replaceable in the eyes of the Empire as a common soldier, and now that her father was dead, it was her responsibility to carry on her family legacy as a loyal servant to the Emperor.  A bitter taste rose up in her throat as she bowed her head, powerlessness threatening to overwhelm her.

“Those in power who wish to rebel must learn subtlety,” he continued.  “They must learn from the mistakes of my daughter and her people, so there will never be another Alderaan.”

Trios’ eyes widened slowly, realizing just  _ what  _ Vader was saying, what dangerous secrets he was trusting her with, and she  _ understood.   _ She was being given a role to play, just as Vader had a role he had to play, dancing around in a masquerade of loyalty to the Emperor while protecting the citizens of the Empire.  It was a dangerous thing to do, and the gravity of her situation threatened to bury her into the floor. She did not ask for this, and would never have expected such a duty to be handed to here, and yet, she found the will to stand, reaching her hands out to once again accept the shard of the ill fated planet.

“I understand, my lord,” she replied as the heavy rock rested in her hands.  “I will do what I must to serve the Empire.”

Vader nodded his approval, turning to leave.  The droids followed after him shortly, followed by the two pilots, though the woman paused.  She glanced back at her, a sad, apologetic look on her face, before she left as well.

Trios did not move until the door closed behind them, finally letting out a slow breath she had not realized she was holding.  She turned back to her father’s corpse, tucking the piece of Alderaan under her arm as she reached for him. Her hand brushed along his slackened cheek, a silent goodbye, before she reached up and took his crown, holding it loosely in her hand.

“I’m sorry, father,” she said softly.  “I will free Shu-torun from the Emperor, but for now I must continue to play the sacrificial role you’ve given me.”

~.oOOo.~

The cockpit was silent as Vader brought the  _ Lambda _ -class shuttle online, Danres at his side, assisting him.  It was normally a duty that would fall to Tanbris, but he had taken on the responsibility of securing the droids instead, sparing the Rebel woman that grim task.  He did not believe being in his presence was  _ much  _ better, but he supposed dealing with those two after they slaughtered an entire royal family and their entourage was slightly worse.

“Will she really be alright?” Danres asked as they lifted off the landing platform, sparing a glance in his direction.  “Her father rebelled because the ore-dukes refused to cooperate with the tithes. If Shu-torun is going to be pulling double that to also aid the Rebellion, they’ll be stretched thin.  They’ll turn against her.”

“And the Empire will come to her aide,” Vader replied.  “It is better than allowing them to manipulate the market on their whim, serving only to line their own pockets with their greed, until the Emperor became bored of their lack of cooperation.”

Danres let out a breath, conceding the point.  The cockpit fell silent again, and remained so until they broke the upper atmosphere.

“So.  When were you going to tell the rest of us Princess Leia was your daughter?”

Vader froze at that, slowly turning toward her.  She peered up at him, trying and failing to keep the rebellious little smile off her face.


	25. Lost Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all; I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to update. This has been a hellish couple of weeks between work and my personal life, and as the end of the quarter looms at work, it only promises to get worse. I'm feeling a bit uncertain about this chapter still, but I've cleaned up as best I could and I'm basically kind of YOLOing it. Please let me know if you spot any egregious typos or grammar errors, and I'll fix them as soon as I can.

Aphra stared out of the cockpit of the _Ark Angel,_ a grimace taking over her expression.  The planet below was… _dark;_ a black dot in the middle of space that even the light of the system’s sun seemed reluctant to touch.  Heck, if it were not for her own astrogation charts, she would not have even thought it was _there,_ that was how _black_ it was.  On top of that, she knew she did not have any kind of Force thing going on, and she was _still_ getting a serious case of the heebie-jeebies.

The fact that she was making the trip to the middle of nowhere with Sergeant Salty was not helping her mood either.

She glanced over at Kreel, noting that there was an annoyed look in his eyes that his stoic facial expression refused to show.  He obviously did not want to be here with her, and the feeling was _very_ mutual.  Danres looked much better sitting in that seat.  Hell, _anyone_ looked better in that seat by comparison.

“You know, if you hadn’t been so determined to space our resident Rebel, you’d be frolicking on the other side of the galaxy with the boss right about now.”

Kreel shot her a look that probably could have melted durasteel, but Aphra ignored him, aiming the ship toward the planet.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” she asked, half glancing toward him as she focused on flying.  “You hardly strike me as the stupidly loyal to the Empire type.”

“Shows what you know then,” Kreel replied gruffly.  “The Rebels are nothing more than terrorists; they all deserve what they have comin’ to ‘em.”

Aphra paused at that, raising an eyebrow at him, before focusing back on what she was doing.

“I think you and Luke need to have a nice long talk,” she finally said after a moment.  “Especially about the whole part where Danres saved his life while he was in a coma.”

Kreel did not comment, and the rest of the flight down to the planet was done in relative silence.  As they went, though, Aphra wished he would say something; the planet was just as creepy below the atmosphere as it was above it.  Dark rock towers surrounded them as she tried to find a spot to land safely, looking more like the jaws of a ravenous beast trying to swallow them whole.  A storm seemed to be churning on the horizon, but it was so dark that the clouds looked more like an evil specter trying to break through the bonds of reality.  Aphra shuddered, silently cursing her overactive imagination as she landed the ship.

They headed out a moment later, with DV-2 taking the lead as soon as they were down the boarding ramp.  The poor little droid was still in low spirits without his master around. His emotion sensor seemed to be stuck on dark blue, and he had even turned down an oil bath with a despondent, “No thanks,” boop.  Even now he did not really seem up for doing much of anything, his scanner popping up almost reluctantly as he surveyed the surrounding area.

“...that droid _does_ know he’s probably going to outlive his master, right?” Kreel muttered, and Aphra just about jumped at the heartless comment.  She shushed him, smacking his arm with both hands for emphasis.

“Don’t you _dare_ make him more depressed than he already is!” she hissed.  “We need his help in this creepy place; I don’t want him to shut down!”

DV let out a half-hearted attempt at an annoyed boop, reminding them both that he had very good hearing, before he put away his scanner.  He let out another boop before he started to roll down what could barely be considered a path, his head swiveling around as he told the two of them to hurry up.  Aphra stared after the droid a moment, before she gave Kreel another smack for good measure.

“See? You made him mad,” she said, only to receive an irritated grumble in return.

They followed after DV in silence, more preoccupied with picking their way through the path then snarking at each other. The grim atmosphere of the planet only seemed to increase the further away they got from the _Ark Angel,_ and Aphra was _really_ starting to wish they had brought Santy with them. The Wookiee had said he needed to do his own thing, but he would be on call if he was needed. She knew she should have insisted that he was needed.

“Hey—”

Aphra let out a screech, part of her realizing it was just Kreel trying to get her attention, but she was too caught up in the unsettling atmosphere to really _acknowledge_ that. She whirled on him and the bland look he was giving her.

“Will you relax?” he grumbled at her. “Nothing’s touched this planet since Lord Vader was here last.”

So he assumed, Aphra wanted to retaliate with, but in reality she was less worried about things coming _to_ the planet and more concerned about what was _already on it._ She shook her head after a moment, hugging her arms to her chest.

“...just really wish old and wrinkly hadn’t called Boss away,” she admitted, starting after DV again. “Heck, even if we had Mini Boss here I’d feel better. This Force stuff gives me the creeps when they’re not around.”

Kreel fell silent, the kind of silence one responds with when they agree with a person. For a moment it was just the crunch of their feet on gravel, before he gave her the courtesy of pulling even with her before talking again.

“This place feels dark,” he said softly, getting her to glance at him warily. “The kinda dark that swallows you up and doesn’t spit you back out.”

Aphra shuddered at that; she had gotten that feeling too, but something about the way Kreel _said_ that made it even worse. It was almost like he could feel it on a level she never would be able to, and she frowned to herself, turning a curious look his way.

“Are you Force sensitive?” she asked, and he opened his mouth immediately to deny it, only to slowly click it shut. His face was screwed up in thought, like he was finally puzzling something out that had been bothering him, only to shake his head after a moment.

“Doesn’t matter if I am or not,” he finally replied. “I’m a soldier, and the Five-oh-First is my family. They’re my priority over anything else.”  Something like a smile crept onto his face then. “Though being able to use a lightsaber helps.”

Aphra let out a faint noise at that, rolling her eyes. It probably helped that a lightsaber was a lot cooler to have than a blaster. Still, she found herself loosening her grip on her arms, feeling just a little bit safer.

Maybe this trip through Malachor would not be so bad?

~.oOOo.~

She had sat in her chosen spot for what felt like ages, not knowing when what she was looking for would come, just that it would, and she needed to be _right here_ when it did. The planet was so silent, so _dark,_ it made the Force hum around her even louder than it usually did. But quiet, quiet, she needed to be quiet and patient; her master, her old master, had always praised her for being patient.  That patience was rewarded when she heard the sound of a ship approach, and she watched as it landed, and two humans and a droid emerged.

There.  There, there, there; _that_ was what she was waiting for.

She wormed her way out of her spot, following silently, oh so silently above them, listening as the woman felt unsettled by the planet, listening as the man talked her down.  The Force was weak with them, oh so weak, but the man shown a little brighter than her. They were still easy prey, easy meat, but she would wait, she must wait; her new master would tolerate nothing less than her usual patience, no matter how much the Dark Side made her crave.

She continued to follow, hands falling to the twin lightsabers at her belt, their curved hilts still stained with the mud she had pulled them from.  Soon… so very soon…

~.oOOo.~

Leia may have been the first to be able to leave, but she was the last to make it back to the Alliance rendezvous point.  Wedge and Han greeted her as soon as she landed, the former immediately grabbing her up in a big hug. It was hard to miss how sour the action made Han, though he was trying to pretend he was not bothered by it.  They would need to have a talk, a serious talk that she had the feeling neither of them actually wanted to have, but for now she had other issues to worry about.

She took the first opportunity she could to slip away from the two Corellians, promising she would be back as soon as she checked in.  Instead of hunting down a deck officer, however, she slipped out of the docking bay entirely, following the sensation of the faint harmony her brother generated.  Even from this distance he felt tired, distracted, but in much better shape than when she saw him last, so she was not that surprised when her journey brought her to the med bay.

“—damn, Luke.  I really had no idea.”

Leia paused when she heard Biggs’ voice, and she almost retreated.  They were old friends; if they were catching up, she had no business interrupting them.  Curiosity gnawed at her insides, and after a moment, she pressed herself up against the wall, listening.

“I know,” Luke replied, sounding as tired as he felt in the Force.  “My— Lord Vader made it a point to tell me some Rebel factions use terrorist actions to get their point across.  I knew you wouldn’t have fallen in with a group like that.”

The two of them were silent a moment, unease hanging in the air.

“He’s really your dad, isn’t he?” Biggs finally asked after a moment, his voice so soft Leia could barely hear him over the hum of medical equipment.

“Yeah…” came the equally soft reply, before Luke let out a faint laugh.  “Looking back, it was really obvious, wasn’t it? It must have been so frustrating for…”

Luke broke off before he could say the person’s name, and Leia found herself struck by the overwhelming sadness that filled him.  He must have been referring to the other pilot that had been with him over the Death Star, the one that Han shot down. She could still vividly remember the overwhelming pain over their connection in the Force, like a part of Luke had been ripped away from him.  A faint, strangled sounding sob came from the room a moment later as if to confirm it, and she heard the rustle of someone moving.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Biggs said, though his voice sounded muffled.  "The two of you were a couple of crazy hotshots. I wish I could've taken you both with me when I defected."

Luke let out a faint noise, also sounding a bit muffled.  That rustle came again, and his voice came through a little clearer, though it was thick with grief.

"My place is with the Empire," he said.  "Even more so, now that I know. Father will need me there, just as Leia's needed here."

Leia started at that, almost worried she had been caught eavesdropping; but the conversation continued with Biggs letting out a rude noise.

"Why?" he asked.  "I mean, he's _Darth Vader;_ not only is he the most terrifying man to exist, but he's an amazing leader.  I saw how some people reacted to just the idea of him at the Academy; some were practically tripping over themselves to work under him, even with his reputation.  If he's looking to do what you said, he can do that on his own; there's plenty of soldiers probably already looking forward to him being the next Emperor."

Leia felt like she missed an important part of the conversation, but she did not dwell on it.  Instead, she was caught up in how very silent Luke was, like his very presence was trying to mute itself.  That did not keep her from picking up on the fear and trembling dread for the future he was feeling, however.

"Luke?" Biggs began, pausing a moment.  "He... _does_ plan on being Emperor, right?"

Her brother was silent for a long moment, his warring thoughts a storm in his head.  When he finally did speak, his voice sounded strained, the truth of the situation difficult for him to vocalize, and she could sense why.  This was not something he wanted to acknowledge; saying it out loud made it a reality, and there was a deep, underlying desire to keep it from being made real coming from him.

"My father is a military leader," he began.  "He know that, and anyone that serves under him knows that.  He's perfectly content with that role, but he also knows someone like that would be ill suited to guide the galaxy."

"Luke..." Biggs murmured faintly, and Leia could feel his heart reaching out to her brother, his old friend, as if that would be enough to comfort him.  Luke let out a hollow sounding laugh.

"Honestly?  He probably wants Leia to take the throne, if only for how experienced she is in politics, but I think we all know what she would say to that."

"Hell no," Leia mouthed silently, as Biggs said as much out loud.

"Exactly," Luke replied, before he fell silent again.  There was a moment of nervous fluttering, and she could picture him fidgeting where he sat, before he continued, "My father — _our_ father — knows we're both leaders in different ways.  That's why Leia is needed here, where she can thrive, and I'm needed back by his side, so I can be _seen_ as I grow into the responsibility.  I'm certain when the time comes, we'll be able to meet halfway."

Silence filled the area, save for the beeping of medical equipment, and Leia found herself letting out a soft breath.  The galaxy should not need to be bound to the whims of two teenagers raised in the middle of war; she _knew_ that, but part of her knew what they did would motivate so many others to follow after them.  Oddly, however, she knew they would be okay; she preserved through Jedi training and political arenas at the same time and still held firm to her views despite the looming threat that was the Emperor.  Luke, who remained kind in the heart of the worst of the Empire, that only broke when confronting his friend’s killer; if he managed to hold onto his kindness despite all that, he would be all right as well.

“We sure as hell came a long way from tending moisture vaporators, didn’t we?”

Luke let out a laugh as Leia smiled, before quietly slipping away from the med bay.

~.oOOo.~

“Is it too late to run back to the ship?”

Kreel very nearly rolled his eyes, though his grip remained tight on his lightsaber.  The trip down the path from where they had parked the _Ark Angel_ brought them to a massive, angular colossus that almost seemed _alive._ He expected the building to start breathing any second, and he found himself stopping a safe distance away from it, about as willing to approach it as Aphra was.

DV swiveled his head toward them, letting out a low boop that drew a whine out of her.  It was not for the first time that Kreel wondered if she _had_ to make noises like that.

“The coordinates she gave you lead in there?!” she asked.  “Why is she _in_ there?  Couldn’t she have waited _outside?”_

DV booped again as Kreel gave in and rolled his eyes.  This really was punishment for trying to kill the Rebel, hunh?  He wondered if Vader realized this just made him want to kill her even more.

“I would have thought you’d be all over this thing,” he finally said after a moment.  “Just imagine all the ancient Sith weapons that could be inside…”

Aphra stiffened at that, before whirling on him, pointing a finger in his face.

“Ohhhhh, no!  No you don’t! I recognize baiting when I see it.  You’re not getting me that easily!”

They stared each other down for a long moment, his flat expression against her stubborn nose scrunch.  It was a moment before she started twitching in place, and not long after that she was throwing her hands up in defeat.

 _“Stars,_ I hate you!” she exclaimed, whirling around and stalking over to the front of the structure.  Kreel allowed himself a small smirk, before joining her, staring up at the massive, featureless door into the place.

“Any idea how we’re supposed to get in?” he asked.  It seemed logical to ask her, seeing as she was the archaeologist, but she just shrugged helplessly.

“I dunno, knock?”

Kreel gave her a bland look, even as she shrugged at him.

“Look, it’s worth a try!” she exclaimed.  “It’s not like there’s much info out there about ancient Sith Temples.”

He had to concede the point there, a sigh escaping from him.  Kreel stepped forward after a moment, glancing around, hoping some mechanism would stick out, before he lifted his hand.  Just before he could knock, however, the whole temple seemed to let out a rumbling groan, before a hidden seam split the door in two.  Silently, the doors slid to the side, and Kreel could not help but stare in confusion.

“O-oh… that was a good knock…” Aphra squeaked, and he could not blame her for feeling unnerved over that one.  Still, something felt off about all this, and he found himself looking around, expecting an ambush to happen any second.  It was not until he looked up that his concerns proved right, as he saw someone leap off the high entrance to the temple.

Kreel grabbed Aphra’s arm, shoving her toward the open door, getting a confused noise out of her.  That noise soon turned into a yelp as a woman landed before them. She was a Mirialan, the pale green skin typical of her species so washed out it was a sickly yellow color instead, making the black markings on her face and arms stand out starkly.  She lifted her head, beady yellow, red-shot eyes focusing on him, and she stood slowly, a lightsaber gripped tightly in each hand, both of which were ignited in the next moment.

“Who the—?!”

“Inquisitor!” Kreel snapped back at Aphra, igniting his lightsaber.  “Go! Find Fulcrum!”

Thankfully, Aphra did not need to be told twice, and he heard her and DV hurrying into the temple as the Mirialan charged.

~.oOOo.~

“My name is Luke Skywalker.  I’m the son of Lord Vader and the late Senator Amidala.”

Silence met his bold opening, not that Luke was entirely surprised by that, considering how uncooperative he had been previously.  As soon as the medical droid cleared him, he requested this meeting with those that had already heard the truth of their relationship from Leia.  It was just a small gathering, including General Syndulla, that dark Force user (not a Sith, not like his father, but definitely was at one point), Biggs, that pilot, and a wookiee and another pilot he did not recognize.  He _did_ have a vague recollection of being hit by a wookiee, however; perhaps he was the same one.

What he did not expect was the leader of the Rebellion herself joining them via holocall.  Her expression remained passive at his introduction, though he did not miss it when her eyes flicked over to where Leia was sitting next to that pilot.  His sister shifted slightly, the look on her face telling him she had never told Mon Mothma, yet it seemed she suspected nonetheless. It also gave him the impression she had insisted on being part of this meeting, despite his request of those in attendance just being those that knew of their relationship.

“I thank you for being so forthcoming,” Mon Mothma finally replied.  “Forgive me, though; I am uncertain how to refer to you.”

“Ensign, ma’am,” Luke answered immediately, squashing down a feeling of dread that threatened to crawl up his spine.  He was so very, _very_ grateful she had not assumed he would have a royal title.

She seemed to pick up on his unease, as she did not question his low rank.

“Ensign Skywalker, you’ve come before us with information you’ve said is vital to the continuation of the Alliance.”

“I have, ma’am,” Luke began, before taking a deep breath.  He had rehearsed what he was going to say in his head repeatedly for the past few hours, though he thought he would be saying it to General Syndulla.  Now that he was standing here before Mon Mothma herself, a woman declared a traitor long before he had left the Academy, he could not help but feel nervous.  Everything was riding on this, and that was made more palpable the longer he stared at the woman’s flickering image.

“My father wishes a truce with the Alliance for the Restoration of the Republic.”

A rude noise came from the dark Force user, only to be promptly, sharply elbowed by the general.  Mon Mothma did not seem to notice, her gaze leveled on Luke, to the point where he felt like he was going to sink through the floor.

“With all due respect, ensign, your father has a peculiar way of showing it.”

By some miracle, Luke managed to keep himself from flinching at her bland tone.

“We have no excuse for Vrogas Vas,” he admitted.  “What started as a plan to slip into the Alliance base and obtain the Fulcrum codes so that we may discreetly make contact in the future turned into a nightmare, and I myself share blame in how catastrophically everything fell apart.  No apologies could make up for what happened, so I will offer you none, only the sincerest promise that we are learning, all of us.”

Silence fell again, and Luke caught the pilot — Han, his name was Han — resting a hand on his sister’s shoulder.  He did _not_ like the connotations that went with that gesture, no matter how much he realized he had little say in the matter.  Mon Mothma’s steady gaze kept him from dwelling on it too much, though it was a moment before she looked away, letting out a faint breath.

“You have much of your mother in you, Ensign Skywalker,” she began.  “It was very easy to listen and believe in her. However, actions speak louder than words in this case.  While I have no reason to doubt your sincerity, your father is another matter. I’ve every reason to believe this a trap, and you an unwitting pawn in it.”

Luke felt himself floundering, trying to think of something to say to save this situation… but really, what _could_ he say?  Tell them that Vader permitted Leia to destroy the Death Star?  After killing all the other pilots that tried? Right now, he felt lucky he was not in handcuffs; he was not about to try to push his luck.

“As a show of good faith, and thanks for protecting so many of our fighters, I can permit you transport to wherever you choose,” Mon Mothma continued.  “However, I cannot guarantee this to be extended to you in the future.”

Luke bowed his head, nodding faintly and murmuring his thanks, though he did not lift it again until the holocall flickered out, the sting of failure aching in his chest.

~.oOOo.~

The sound of lightsabers clashing faded the further into the temple Aphra ran, though that did not do much for her nerves.  Part of her kept saying they needed to double back, to go help Kreel as best she could. Maybe he did have a bit of Force voodoo in him, maybe he did not; either way, she did not see him lasting long on his own.  The other part of her kept saying she needed to find Vader’s Snips; she had been a Jedi once, clearly! She would definitely be able to take out anyone that was out to lightsaber them to death.

There was also the small part of her saying she needed to get back to the _Ark Angel_ and get out of there, but she was trying to ignore that part.

“Deevee, _please_ tell me we’re getting close!” she gasped, too afraid to slow down, least that woman cut down Kreel and make it to her.  The response the droid gave her was a little encouraging, at least! Apparently they were really close. A few turns around these creepy as all hell halls, and—!

The two of them came out into a very large, very empty antechamber.

“Are you _kidding?!”_ Aphra squeaked, DV letting out an annoyed boop, insisting that no, really, she was supposed to be right here.  Aphra was about to snap at him, point out that she clearly _was not here,_ when she heard the sound of something being dragged along the ground behind her.  She let out another squeak, looking frantically for a place to hide, wishing for the umpteenth time that Santy or Vader or Luke was there too.

She spun around when she heard the sound of a lightsaber activating, only to see the Mirialan woman from before standing behind her.  She was dragging something along the ground, and it took Aphra a moment to realize it was a very burned and bloody Kreel. Aphra let out a faint whimper as the woman let the back of his shirt go, leaving the trooper to drop to the ground.  He did not even let out a grunt when he landed, which made her seriously think he was dead, and if he was dead, what kind of chance did she have?

Aphra backed up as the Inquisitor stalked closer, only to have DV dart in between them.  He let out a harsh sounding boop, saying something he _definitely_ did not learn from Luke, and his emotion sensor flashed red as his arc welder popped out.  The Mirialan did not even look down at him as she waved a hand, sending the droid flying toward the wall without breaking stride.

Aphra continued to back away, the terror creeping up her spine making it difficult to think, let alone try to talk her way out of this.  She ended up letting out a yelp as her back hit a column, staring wide eyes as a definitely _not sane_ smile came to the Inquisitor’s face.  She reached a hand out, but instead of choking like Vader would have done, pain suddenly shot up Aphra’s arm.  She looked, only to see blood trickling out from under her sleeve where her skin had inexplicably split open. Another jolt of pain, and she saw blood starting to soak through her shirt over her abdomen.

Aphra let out a terrified noise as she realized her body was splitting itself apart, wrapping her arms around herself as if that would help.

“P-please, stop…!” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

She wished Vader was there, or Luke, or Kreel had not been knocked out so easily.  She wished Krrsantan as there, or Tanbris and Danres, she wished…

She wished her dad was there.

The hum of a lightsaber suddenly cut through Aphra’s terror, followed by the sound of blades clashing loudly.  Her eyes sprang open, finding herself staring at the back of the Togruta that had appeared on her ship. She did not look as glamorous as she had back then; she looked tired and worn, like she had been stuck in this place without food or water for years.  That did not keep her from standing tall against the Mirialan, who had completely forgotten about Aphra now that the former Jedi was in front of her. She was glaring daggers at her, a look that would have had Aphra sinking into the ground if it was aimed at her.

“That’s enough, Barriss!”

The Inquisitor stared, like she could not understand why she was being called that.  A flicker of recognition flashed across her face, before it was soon replaced with a cruel, twisted smirk.

“You shouldn’t speak the name of a dead woman, Ahsoka.”


	26. Reunited

The sound of lightsabers clashing was enough to stir him back into consciousness, though Krell really wished he was not awake.  Pain laced through his body immediately, bringing with it memories of a fight that had not been fair by any means. He could hold his own with a lightsaber well enough, had shown as much countless times in Grakkus’ arena, but that was  _ nothing  _ compared to someone trained in the Force since they were a child.  That Inquisitor, to put it bluntly, kicked his ass, destroying his lightsaber and taking  _ great  _ pleasure in torturing him without touching him.  Even now he could tell his arms and legs were not moving anytime soon, fairly certain they were hurting so much because the tendons in his knees and rotator cuff were snapped.

He let out a pained groan as he tried anyway, barely managing a finger twitch as he forced his eyes open.  Aphra was hovering over him, pale faced and looking like she had almost received the same treatment, if the level of blood that soaked her clothes was anything to go by.  She was pressing a bacta patch to one of his cuts, trying not to freak out, and she glanced down at him, jumping slightly when she saw he was awake.

“Mother of Moons, you’re alive!” she whimpered, throwing herself down on him in a relieved, awkward hug.  Kreel let out a groan, tapping the top of her head with his chin, before she pulled away.

“I-I’m just trying to get the bleeding to stop, okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.  “Just stay with me.”

Kreel let out another grunt of acknowledgement; talking hurt, moving hurt, and he had no idea what had been  _ done  _ to him, just that he was probably lucky to be alive, let alone staying conscious.  The sounds of battle were increasing, shouts being tossed back and forth as the clash of blades sent white and red flashes spraying on the walls and ceiling above, but he could not move his head to see what was happening.  Instead, he kept his focus on Aphra, watching as her trembling hands went through both his pack and hers, working with what emergency supplies they had on hand. There was not much, but she was patching vital places; at least she had her head together enough for that.

There was a loud shout above him, and Aphra suddenly yelped, throwing herself over him again as the sound of rocks crashing echoed through the chamber.  A tense moment passed as the debris falling out of his sight slowly settled, and Kreel did not relax until she lifted herself up, sinking slowly back until she was sitting on her heels.

“I...is it over?” she whimpered, looking up just as Fulcrum came into his view.  She looked very pale and thin, much different from when they first saw her, but otherwise in one piece, despite how ferocious the fight had sounded.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do something sooner,” she said, sinking down beside him, her hand coming down to gently press against his shoulder.  Almost immediately, the pain started to ebb, though he still could not move.

“I-I have some more emergency supplies on the ship,” Aphra managed to get out, “but it’s not much; enough to keep him stabilized, maybe.”

Fulcrum nodded, and Kreel could not help but notice how old she seemed; much older than the length of her head tails suggested.  A faint boop came from somewhere, and he heard Luke’s droid trundling over the floor to join them.

“He’s sent out a message to… to Vader,” Fulcrum said, before standing and lifting her hands.  Kreel felt something push at his back, unsteady at first, but smoothing out as he was lifted up.  “We should hear back by the time we get off this planet.”

Kreel managed a relieved noise as he started floating forward.  He never,  _ ever  _ wanted to deal with this level of Force crap ever again.

~.oOOo.~

Leia had felt extremely lost after the meeting, and she had drifted about the ship for a time, kept occupied by her own thoughts.  Eventually, she made her way to the docking bay and her new X-wing, the promise of having something to work on chasing away the mental images of her brother looking so defeated.  She did not know what to make of it; they had not exactly met on the best of circumstances and she did not know him very well, but he seemed like the type where it was a criminal offense to make him sad.

As she got close to her ship, she could hear a voice saying something she could not make out, followed by a few encouraging beeps from R2.  Leia frowned curiously, tilting her head as she approached, finally seeing the droid and Luke sitting together under her ship. R2 was beeping up a storm, telling him about the trip to Dathomir and how unfriendly the place was, drawing a soft laugh out of Luke.

“You wouldn’t like Mustafar then; that planet is definitely not fun for droids,” he said.  R2 let out a vague sounding noise at that, swiveling his head around almost nervously, before he spotted her.  He let out a happy sounding beep, getting Luke to turn around. His eyes widened, and he shot up from his seat like he had been caught doing something he should not have been doing.

“Ah… sorry, I…” he began, fumbling for words.  “They’re looking for a pilot to fly me out, and told me to wait…”

He trailed off awkwardly when she failed to react, shifting slightly on his feet in nervousness.  This was the person who knew he would be the next Emperor if their father had his way; an awkward teenager that talked to droids like they were sentient beings, stood face to face against people he was intimidated by, yet would fidget and fret when he felt comfortable enough to do so, showed an  _ extraordinary  _ amount of kindness and respect to people he should not, given whose side he was on in this war, and utterly adored a man that just about every sane person was afraid of.  He was not Imperial; it was the only conclusion Leia could really come to, even if he did wear the insignia with something like pride.  _ What  _ he actually was, she did not know, but it was not Imperial.

“Have you decided where you’re going?” she finally asked.

“Yes; back to Vrogas Vas,” he replied quickly.  “Father’s heading there; I should be able to reach it first, since he’s coming from the Mid-Rim.”

Leia frowned at that.  “How can you tell?”

They would have known if he or Thanoth had made any calls, and Luke seemed to realize that.  He paused, picking his words carefully when he spoke next.

“It wasn’t long after I first met him, that I started being able to sense where he was no matter how far apart we were,” he explained.  “That power has only grown in the years since, and especially so after I realized we were related.”

“So you didn’t know…” Leia murmured faintly.  She suspected as much after hearing his conversation with Biggs, but her own doubts and insecurities would not let her believe it.

Luke shook his head.  “No, I grew up with our aunt and uncle on Tatooine,” he explained.  “They told me he was dead. It wasn’t until I ran away and ended up on the  _ Devastator  _ that I even learned who our father had been.”

Leia fell quiet, struggling to reign in her warring thoughts.   _ Had  _ been; so her brother had been fed stories too, straight from the mouth of the man himself.  She was sure it had been an utterly biased and shameful account as well, and part of her wanted to say as much, when she felt a hand taking hold of hers gently.  She looked up to see Luke’s kind face, filled with so much care and understanding that she felt herself wilt a little.

“I can help you… if you want,” he offered softly.  “I can help you reach out to him.”

Leia very nearly recoiled at the  _ idea.   _ Being in Vader’s presence was bad enough; she could not imagine how terrible and twisted his mind was.  But then again… Luke believed in him so strongly…

She blew out a frustrated breath, glaring — or at least trying to glare — at the almost puppy dog-like expression being aimed at her.

“You make it very hard to say no,” she replied, to his confused head tilt.  Truth be told, if she could not sense the sincerity in every word he said, she would have kicked him back to the brig long before he even requested that disastrous meeting.

Leia finally sat down, holding on to Luke’s hand and guiding him down next to her.  She blew out a breath, mentally preparing herself, before she nodded. He gave her an encouraging smile, giving her hand a squeeze, before he closed his eyes in concentration.  It was a moment before she could feel him reaching out to her, opening himself to her, and she hesitated. Even with that faint of a touch, she could feel how he  _ barely  _ knew what he was doing, and she saw him smile at her reaction.  An image flooded her mind, one of Vader standing above her, lightsaber in hand, though not in a threatening manner.  He turned, demonstrating a basic kata, and the image shifted, showing the motion being mimed awkwardly. It took her a moment to realize it was a memory, and one that was not very old at that.

She broke off after a moment, her incredulousness likely powerful enough to be felt across the ship.

“You’ve only been learning for a few months?!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of some passersby.  She waved them off as Luke’s face bloomed a vibrant pink.

“I-I know I still have a lot to learn…” he mumbled.  R2 let out an encouraging beep, bumping into him, though Leia folded her arms over her chest.

“It was irresponsible of him to give you a lightsaber, much less send you off into a battle with so little training!” she exclaimed.  Luke ducked his head like he was the one that was at fault for that, mouth working, trying to come up with a reply, but she cut him off.  “I’ve had seven  _ years  _ of training, and that  _ still  _ pales in comparison to the old Jedi!”

She grabbed up his hands again, making him jump, his head snapping up to give her a wide-eyed stare.

“Help me reach out to him,” she demanded sternly.  “I need to give him a piece of my mind.”

Luke stared at her a moment more, bewildered, before a sheepish grin broke out over his face.  He closed his eyes again, and once more Leia could feel him reaching out to her. This time she welcomed his openness, closing her eyes and almost able to see the two of them through the Force, flickering with harmonious light.  He held her hand tightly, like he was anchoring himself to her, before he reached out, across the stars. The galaxy passed by them in a dizzying blur, finally stopping when a dark blot appeared in their path. It was barreling toward them impossibly fast, but Luke still seemed to hold his hand out toward it, grasping on as it passed them by and holding on tight as they were dragged off with it.

Leia jumped at the sensation, half expecting the darkness to consume her, but it did no such thing.  Instead it felt like it was holding her at a distance, not pushing her away, just confused by what it was sensing.

_ Leia…? _

It was a strong voice that echoed in her mind, not amplified by machinery.  She almost did not recognize it, probably would not have if she did not know who this shadow belonged to.  This voice was a memory, much like how Luke had shared his memories with her, and it gave her something, however small, of what her father had been.

She reached out to touch the shadow, and felt it draw her close.  She expected cold, something distant and hurtful, but she received nothing but warmth flooding over her instead.  That warmth wrapped around her in a tight, fiercely protective and loving hug, and Leia felt her resolve to yell at the man crumble.

It felt like hours before she could bear to pull away, and she slowly came back, feeling her physical body trembling.  Her eyes opened as she felt Luke’s hand on her cheek, gently brushing away tears. She pulled away after a moment, taking several deep breaths to calm herself.

“...I-I’m going to talk to General Syndulla,” she said.  “I’ll fly you back to Vrogas Vas.”

~.oOOo.~

Ahsoka said little as she tended to Kreel, her mind more focused on what had just happened on Malachor.  Barriss… that had definitely been Barriss she fought against, despite what she had said. She had not seen her since the day she had been arrested for the bombing of the Jedi Temple, declaring that the Dark Side had overcome the Order before she was taken away.  She had not been wrong, but the Order had seen that far too late, and Barriss had still been in Republic custody when everything fell apart.

In easy reach of the Supreme Chancellor turned Emperor.

It made her sick to think that Barriss had become so lost.  She had been a healer, was set to be one of the best the Order had ever seen.  To see those skills twisted to the point of ripping people apart from the inside…

Ahsoka let out a breath, glancing down at Kreel.  He had passed back out not all that long ago, but he was stable, at least for the moment.  There was only so much she could do in her own condition, however; she had been alone in that temple for years, with no transport off and no way to call for help.  The Force enabled her to be pulled into a sort of suspended state, existing, but not really able to reach out to others until she felt everything  _ shift  _ so dramatically that for a moment, she thought the galaxy had been destroyed.  When things finally settled, she could feel a bright, white hot light in the center of it all, and only until she reached out did she realize it was actually two lights.

Luke and Leia Skywalker… really, she should have realized sooner what had been going on with her former master that led to  _ those  _ two.

She made certain one last time that Kreel would be alright, before getting up, grabbing what had to be her sixth nutrient bar as she made her way back to the cockpit.  She finished it before she made it there, still munching slightly as she heard Aphra talking, and she leaned against the entrance way, watching the small holo of Vader hovering over the console.

“...banged up pretty bad, Boss,” Aphra was saying, still looking rather pale.  “Kreel called her an ‘Inquisitor’? Never saw anyone like her before.”

“The Inquisitors are dead,” came the stern reply, and Ahsoka pushed herself off the doorframe, going over to the seat beside Aphra, in view of the call.

“It was Barriss,” she provided.  “She was using Ventress’ lightsabers.”

Vader fell quiet at that, and Ahsoka found herself staring at that terrifying mask.  Not for the first time she wondered how he had been forced into that thing. The only conclusion she could come to was when he fell, when he became  _ this,  _ things did not end well between him and Obi-Wan as a result.  That was something she  _ really  _ did not want to think about.

“If Barriss lived to be corrupted by the Emperor, then there could be any number of Jedi that were lost or fallen before the end of the Clone Wars he could have kept as pets without my knowledge,” he finally replied.  “Considering the games he enjoys playing, it’s very likely he already has more Inquisitors spread throughout the galaxy.”

“Which means Luke could be in serious hot water if he stays away from your hip for too long,” Aphra pointed out.

Ahsoka nodded absently, giving Vader a knowing look.  That was not to mention how much danger Leia was in as well.

“Kreel’s in bad shape,” she finally said, changing to another grim topic.  “He’s stable for now, but he needs a doctor and proper treatment.”

Vader nodded.  “Rendezvous with the  _ Devastator  _ over Vrogas Vas,” he ordered, and Aphra shifted, starting to program the navicomputer.  “I will see to it that you are cared for while I’m pulled away with the Emperor’s… business.”

The distaste in his voice was finally enough to bring a small smile to Ahsoka’s face.  He may have been hidden behind a mask, but it at least sounded like the Anakin she always knew was still there.

~.oOOo.~

Luke had expected Han to confront him at some point, and the smuggler definitely did not disappoint.  He came marching up to him while he waited by the transport that they would be using, an angry scowl on his face and an accusing finger pointed at him.  Luke took a deep breath, reigning his emotions in, especially as that finger ended up in his face.

“Listen you,” Han practically growled out, “I don’t care who you  _ claim  _ you are.  You harm a single hair on Leia’s head, you’ll be dealing with  _ me.” _

Luke tried desperately to keep his expression neutral, though it was hard in the face of that so called “threat”.

“I wouldn’t hurt my own sister,” he replied.

“Supposedly,” Han grumbled at him, finally putting that finger away.  “Either way, your pops didn’t have a problem with torturing her, so forgive me if I think you’d take after dear old dad.”

Luke felt his temper immediately hit the roof at that, though before he could say anything, he heard Leia shouting from across the hanger.  He turned to see her marching toward them, though she ignored him in favor of yelling at Han.

“Do  _ not  _ antagonize him, Han,” she practically ordered.  His mouth worked, struggling for a response, but Leia cut him off.  “Enough; we’ll talk when I get back.”

She reached down then, grabbing Luke’s hand and tugging him up the boarding ramp.  He paused, tossing the smuggler the closest thing he could manage to an arrogant smirk, only to have his arm yanked sharply.

“And don’t you provoke him, either!”

“S-sorry…” Luke stammered out, and he swore he heard a Wookiee laughing before he was pulled into the ship.

R2 was already inside, helping prep for launch, and it was not long after they were settled in their seats that they were airborne.  Luke glanced sidelong at Leia, remaining silent as she brought the ship out of the hanger and into hyperspace shortly after. Her bad mood was radiating around her, and he knew it was not just because of Han running his mouth.

“I just sat through three different lectures about how this was a bad idea,” Leia finally explained.  “One of which led to an argument with someone I’ve respected since I was a child.”

She blew out a breath, sinking into the pilot’s chair as Luke frowned slightly.  He remembered the glance Mon Mothma had given her during that meeting, and pieced together the rest.

“How many people know?” Leia continued after a moment.  “How many senators that were around since before the Empire would look at me and think, ‘That’s  _ Vader’s  _ daughter’?”

“I doubt it was many,” Luke replied gently, hoping his calm would help her.  “Father didn’t even know his child lived, much less that there were two of us.  Whomever knew before we realized it and shared that information were the people responsible for separating us.  Anyone else… maybe they suspected, but had no proof our parents ever married.”

Leia fell quiet for a moment, a bitter expression coming to her face.

“Because Jedi weren’t allowed attachments,” she muttered, before rubbing at her face.  “So, they were married? Our parents?”

Luke nodded, a small smile coming to his face.  “Yes. Father said it was a small, secret ceremony on Naboo.”

Silence fell again, and he could tell Leia was struggling with the idea that their father was capable of love — never mind she  _ knew,  _ especially after reaching out to him before, the problem was getting her to  _ accept  _ it.  He did not say anything, letting her sort out how she felt about it, and he was about to settle comfortably in his seat, when he heard a faint beep behind them.  They both turned toward R2, who seemed to be rocking nervously on his utility legs.

“Artoo?” Leia asked.  “What is it?”

The sheepishly beeped answer did little to improve Leia’s mood.  She flopped back in her seat again, glowering at the droid, though Luke was too caught up in what he said to offer her comfort at that moment.

“You worked with our parents?!”

R2 let out a trill, before launching into a long explanation, about how his service started as a repair droid on a Naboo royal ship.  He concluded with telling them that he was with their parents before the start of the Clone Wars, before tilting forward. His holoprojector came to life, and Luke felt his breath freeze in his throat.

The two people that appeared were holding hands, gazing up at each other with utter adoration.  He was wearing the robes of a Jedi Knight, darker in color than the ones Luke had used on Nar Shaddaa, though oddly fitting, considering who it was.  A prosthetic hand extended out from on sleeve, holding onto hers with nothing but the utmost care. She was practically glowing in white, gauzy and lacy, and looking almost like a star itself given human form.

Luke found himself slipping out of his seat, crouching on the ground to get a better look at their father and mother on their wedding day.  Leia leaned forward in hers, her eyes transfixed on the image as she clasped her hands in front of her.

“I studied her speeches often growing up,” Leia murmured.  “She was always so passionate; it didn’t matter what she was talking about.”

Luke let out a faint hum of agreement.

“My favorite was when she spoke against the continued funding of clones,” he said softly.  “It was hard to get a hold of at the Academy, but I must have watched it dozens of times when I finally did.”

He turned back to her, a soft smile coming to his face.  Leia paused a moment, her gaze briefly flicking to the holo again.

“...you have her smile,” she said softly, a sad smile coming to her face.  “I… guess I have his…”

“Leia—”

He did not get a chance to say more; a loud  _ bang  _ resonated through the ship, warning lights going off a moment later.  Luke sprang to his feet as Leia turned around, the both of them staring out the viewport.  What was supposed to be a swirl of quickly moving stars had been replaced with a looming Imperial Interdictor, its gravity wells having already dragged them out of hyperspace.

Oh  _ no… _

~.oOOo.~

His children should have been here by now.

Vader would never admit it, but he had been relieved to have the  _ Devastator  _ arrive at Vrogas Vas, only to see the  _ Ark Angel  _ in orbit, waiting for them.  Thankfully Montferrat had not asked questions as they were taken aboard and rushed to the med bay.  It was only the thought that going down to the planet’s surface meant he would be seeing his children together that kept him from looking after the injured team, particularly Ahsoka.  There was so much he needed to say to her, but…

But Luke and Leia were not down there, and even as he waited, taking his time picking through the remains he was looking for, they still did not arrive.  He frowned after a moment, looking up to the sky and stretching out with his senses, reaching across the galaxy to his errant children. What he got in return was a sense of fear, near panic, and frantic scrambling punctuated by determination.  It made him pause, his expression turning bland; what were his children doing  _ now? _

The thought must have passed through the Force, because he received two frantic voices yelling at him in answer.

_ Crashing! _

Vader paused again, before letting out a sigh his vocoder refused to interpret, shaking his head.  Collection crews had already been through the area after the battle, and the remains of his previous fighter was gone — either destroyed or collected to be repaired later, he was not sure which.  He could have fixed it and left it if something like this happened, but now…

He glanced at the fighter he had flown down to the planet briefly, before turning away, activating the comlink in his helmet.

“Tanbris, send a shuttle down,” he ordered.  “Bring Deevee with you.”

~.oOOo.~

“You are an  _ amazing  _ pilot.”

Leia looked up from where she was pulling out some much needed equipment from their damaged ship, trying to ignore the fact that her face was warming at the compliment.  Luke was helping — of course he was the type that would refuse to sit by and let someone else do all the work — but he had paused to look at the ship, his eyes alight with the fact that it was barely damaged, despite their rough landing.  Between the two of them, out maneuvering and out shooting TIE fighters had not been hard, it was the losing them when they could not escape into hyperspace part that had been difficult. She had gotten the — admittedly crazy — idea to fly into a nebula to lose them, but unfortunately it had come at the price of their ship.  Most of the systems on board shorted out as a result, hence the crashing part.

Hearing Luke’s praise at her piloting skills was a lot better than the stressed sigh she heard from the other side of the galaxy before.

“I did what I had to, considering it was my fault we had to crash in the first place,” she replied, dropping what she was carrying on the ground.  “At least we’ll be able to fly again,  _ if  _ we can get parts.”

The doubt was heavy in her voice, and she could tell Luke felt the same way.  Unless there was an underwater city or parts started raining from the sky, they were fairly stuck until Vader could send someone, or the Alliance happened to get lucky.  She was not holding her breath on either option happening anytime soon.

“Well, until that happens, we need to focus on surviving,” Luke said, his gaze finally drifting toward her.  “I can take some parts from the ship, and…”

He paused, shrugging sheepishly, an embarrassed flush coming to his face.

“I-I… think I remember enough of moisture farming to put a vaporator together.”

A small smile came to Leia’s face as Luke shifted uncomfortably, trying to imagine this hotshot pilot with a heart of gold working out in the sand dunes, struggling to pull in palatable drinking water on a world that gave so little.  She ducked down after a moment, pulling out a tool kit and offering it to him.

“Let’s get to work.”

~.oOOo.~

Feeling safe on a Star Destroyer, much less one barreling toward Coruscant with her on it, was fairly high on the list of things Ahsoka never expected to happen.  Yet here she was, released from med bay and given a data cylinder that would give her access to the places she was permitted to go. It was a little daunting to think about, but the  _ Devastator  _ was a “safe” place; it had all the sensations of what one would consider home, and she knew who was probably responsible for that.

She was not surprised when her cylinder granted her access to Vader’s private wing of the ship, though actually going into his room was another matter.  She knew if she waved her cylinder at the lock, the door would open, but… she was not sure if she could do it. She knew she would need to eventually; they needed to talk privately, and it was not a conversation they could put off forever.  But… actually  _ doing  _ it…

Ahsoka found herself resting her forehead against the door, a thousand thoughts running through her mind at once.  He was in  _ there;  _ she knew it was Anakin Skywalker in that room and under that mask.  He was older, the constant sting of loss, rage, and disappointment shaping him into a wiser — if bitter — man, but it was still  _ Anakin. _

The problem was if he saw it that way.

She finally let out a breath, pushing away and swiping her cylinder at the lock before she lost her nerve.  The door opened to darkness, and she gave her eyes a moment to adjust before she entered. Not surprisingly, there was not much of note in his room, with most of it taken up by a hyperbaric chamber, as well as a holoscreen on the wall.  There was a barely used desk, designed to be stood at instead of seated at, with a computer resting on top, a standby light blinking slowly. Out of place next to it was what looked like a child’s craft project of a TIE fighter. Despite the flimsiplast it was made from, it seemed well taken care of, almost to the point of being new, though something told her it definitely was  _ not  _ new.

A faint smile came to Ahsoka’s face as she realized exactly what it was, when a faint hiss came from behind her.  She turned as the hyperbaric chamber started to open, spilling white light into the room. Vader was seated inside, and there was a moment where they just stared at each other, the Force humming with the uncertainty they were both feeling for different reasons.

“Ahsoka…”

“Master,” she found herself responding, and it still felt right, despite how much had transpired between them.

“You’ve little need to call me that any longer,” he admonished.  “You transcended anything I had to teach you long ago.”

“I know,” she replied, starting toward the chamber as it finished opening completely, looking up at Vader’s form seated just above her.  She felt her heart ache again at the sight of him like this, wanting to ask so many questions, but she could not bring herself to.

Instead, she found herself starting forward again, mounting the steps to bring herself into the chamber.  Her arms came up before she could stop herself, wrapping carefully around his neck. It was a moment before she felt his head rest heavily on her shoulder, a hand coming up to gently press against her back, fingers clutching slightly at her tunic.  Another moment passed before she realized she was struggling against tears, and she let out a broken attempt at a laugh.

“I don’t even know what to call you anymore,” she murmured.

Vader paused, a contemplative air hanging about him, before he gently pushed her away.

“Just ‘Vader’,” he said softly.  “I will take this name I was given as a shackle and make it my own.”

“And ‘Anakin’?”

Again, he paused.

“That name should go to someone that can maintain the will to hope for a better future.”

Ahsoka held her gaze on him a moment before she nodded, sinking down to half rest against the arm of his chair.  A gentle smile came to her face, and she could not help but let out a faint chuckle.

“Even still, you will always be my Skyguy, Vader.”

~.oOOo.~

She held her head high as she entered her master’s private chambers, remaining so even as she ascended the steps leading to his throne.  It was not until she was before him that she averted her eyes, sinking so low into a submissive bow that her forehead was touching the black marble floor.  She waited like this, unbothered by the passage of time, nor the wicked eyes studying her with intense scrutiny. The news she bore was worth the wait, for she knew it was news he desired.

“What have you to share with me, my pet?” he finally asked, his tone almost grandfatherly, almost  _ kind,  _ hiding the decades of darkness that dwelt in his decrepit form.  She lifted herself up then so she may answer him with a clear voice, though she remained kneeling on the ground.

“The apprentice of Skywalker still lives, Master,” she announced.  “His agents have collected her and are returning her to him.”

A dark chuckle escaped from her master at that, and he leaned back on his throne, looking like the darkness was swallowing him.

“How very like him,” he hissed, “gathering up the dust of his past, thinking he can use it to shape the future.”

She said nothing, keeping her expression neutral as her master’s gaze focused sharply on her.  She did not flinch as she felt his invading presence claw at her mind, threatening to tear into it and rip her apart from the inside.

“I sense you wish to be rewarded for bringing this to me…”

She bowed her head then, images of her confrontation with the apprentice flooding her mind, including…

“She called me the name of a dead woman, master,” she responded.  “I have no wish to be mistaken for that which was killed ages ago.”

Her master said nothing, his expression remaining passive, even as he turned his chair around, facing away from her.  For a moment, she feared he would just dismiss her, before he finally spoke.

“The spirit of the Rule of Two is that one is to teach, one is to learn; one is to die, one is to betray,” he began.  “There has always been a betrayer in Sith history, thousands of years before this Rule was established.”

The chair turned slightly, enough so that he could glance at her.

“Prove yourself worthy, and you may earn more than just a name, Traya.”

Traya lifted her head, eyes practically glowing in delight, before she bowed low to him once more.

“I will do as you wish, my master.”


	27. Precipice

The trip to Coruscant was blissfully uneventful, and Vader found himself traversing the halls of the Imperial Palace once more.  He was always on guard when he was here, expecting either his master’s probing presence or another one of his “games” to be thrown at him.  Knowing that there would be other Inquisitors now, ones he had no control over, just made his wariness even worse. He  _ hated  _ being here, and that dark stain of a human being and his machinations were not the only reason.

When the Republic fell and the Jedi Order with it, the Emperor had claimed the old temple as his own, turning it into his palace.  Ghosts dwelled in these once sacred halls, memories of times that had seemed much happier than they actually were. If he did not need to be on constant guard, if he could allow himself weakness, he suspected he would have been able to see the shades of those that had once been, though he did not know what he would do if he did.  Beg forgiveness? No, he did not want that, largely because he knew he did not deserve such a thing. His time was better spent getting the corpse that was rotting the galaxy out of this place.

The doors to the Emperor’s study opened to admit him once he arrived, and he crossed into the room, dragging the container of  _ parts  _ he had pulled from Vrogas Vas with him.  The Emperor knew he was there long before he entered the room, yet he made him wait, almost absently finishing what he was reading before looking up, his gaze flicking to the container hovering at his side.

“Ah, Lord Vader,” he began, almost sounding dismissive of him already.  “You bring me tribute? A present? How considerate.”

Vader elected to ignore the sarcasm just hidden in his former master’s voice.

“I have heard you’ve been seeking Commander Karbin.”

With a wave of his hand, the container tilted up and burst open, spilling the gristly contents within on the floor.  The metal scraps of Karbin’s body — cut down more than they already had been to fit into the box — landed with a loud thump, while the fish head rolled along the carpet, coming to a stop at Palpatine’s desk.

“I found him.”

The Emperor gave him the blandest, most unamused look a human being could possibly muster, before leaning forward enough to eye the disembodied head.

“Are these lightsaber wounds?”

Vader had debated a long time on the way back to Coruscant, knowing the question would be asked and not certain the answer the old man would want.  In that moment, he finally knew the best way to respond.

“You wish me to prove myself, master.  Give me a fight worthy of my time.”

Palpatine raised an eyebrow at that.  “And the Star Destroyer he had been given command of?”

Vader allowed a breathing cycle to pass before he responded.

“As I said.”

A heavy silence hung in the air between them, filled only with the hollow sound of his respirator, and a sickly grin spread over the living corpse’s face after the moment passed.  He leaned back in his seat, amusement lighting his yellowed eyes.

“You are in luck then, Lord Vader,” he said.  “The ore-barons of Shu-torun are rebelling, despite our warning.  I require a full military intervention. You will bring the Empire’s assistance to Queen Trios.”

His expression dropped into something more serious as he leaned forward again, emphasizing how important the issue was.  This was not a game for Palpatine, but the kind of dance Vader would have to do to keep it that way, to keep the fact that Shu-torun was going to be serving both sides of the war, would more than make up for that.

“This must be achieved  _ swiftly,”  _ he continued.  “Shu-torun is a fountain of rare metals and minerals.  The Empire’s greatest martial achievements rely upon it, and we cannot strike against our foes without their riches.”

And both he and the Rebellion could not maintain ground against forces loyal to the Emperor if Queen Trios could not control the planet.  The results of this rebellion on Shu-torun would have lasting consequences, and Vader  _ desperately  _ needed those consequences to be in his favor.

He turned to leave, wanting to get back to the  _ Devastator  _ and consult both the others and Montferrat on how to proceed, when the Emperor spoke up again.

“One other thing, Lord Vader…” he began, and he could hear the deceitful smile in his voice without turning to see it on his face.  “Your young apprentice… he is not with you?”

Somehow, but some miracle, Vader managed to keep himself from stiffening, merely glancing behind him.

“FL-One-One-Three-Eight is a pilot,” he explained.  “His duties to the Empire far extend past what I have need of him for.”

An almost  _ casual  _ smile appeared on Palpatine’s face, like he was calling him a liar without saying as much.  He leaned back in his chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

“I see…  Such a shame he’s of so little use to you.  The son of Skywalker would have been a worthy asset if he had been more like his father.”

Vader’s hand, hidden by the folds of his cloak, tightened into a fist, but he said nothing.

“A pity too; I would have liked to see how he fared in the conflict on Shu-torun,” the Emperor continued.  Vader tilted his head slightly, his curiosity at why he would say that clear, prompting Palpatine to reply further, “At Grand General Tagge’s insistence, Doctor Cylo will be joining you in this task.”

It was hard to miss his revulsion at the thought of having to work with Cylo or his abominations on anything.  Having either of his children anywhere near them again was not something he wanted either. The fact that Palpatine was bringing Luke up, though… was he including his son in this ridiculous game of his?  Did he intend to latch onto him and corrupt him? Pit father and son against each other? It was a fight to keep back his rage as he realized that  _ was  _ something the old corpse would do, and he struggled not to reach out through the Force to his children and cling to them protectively.

“As you wish,” he said instead, turning away and continuing to the door.  He felt the Emperor’s mood shift at his exit, though he did not bother to slow his stride.

“Show your merit, Vader,” Palpatine snarled.  “I rely on you more than you can understand.”

~.oOOo.~

“Looks like the gang’s mostly here, hunh?”

Aphra knew Vader’s gaze was on her as he carefully sat himself down in one of the meeting room chairs, his piece on what would be coming in the future and the roles they needed to play over.  She knew he could see she was barely holding herself together by a thread as she stood, responsible for making sure everyone was up to date on who their opposition was. The whole fiasco on Malachor had been way, way too much for her, and even thinking about it make her stomach hurt, nevermind there was no scar left behind, nor any indication she had been injured.  Honestly, she was surprised at herself for sticking around after she had been released from the med bay. She knew if she stayed, they were only going to run into that Inquisitor again, maybe even worse than that.

She really wished she could understand why she could not bring herself to leave.

“So, here’s the deal,” she began, holding her hand up for the controls for the holoprojector embedded in the middle of the meeting room table.  Vader sent them flying toward her hand, and she clicked it on once she had her fingers around it, bringing to life an image of Cylo and his goons.  “At the insistence of his pet stooge, Emperor Wrinkly is having the freak team join the Boss on this mission.”

Her word choice drew a few snorts around the room, though Tanbris looked more scandalized than amused.  Even still, it was weird to be the one in charge of this, especially with Vader and a kriffing Imperial Admiral also sitting in on this meeting.  She was used to their group being weird, but this was a little much.

“The Mon Calamari in this picture we don’t have to worry about; Boss cut him into easy travel size and left him at Wrinkly’s feet,” she continued.  “The others are still alive and kicking though. The Astarte twins are probably the biggest threat out of all of them; they’re fine with killing anything that gets in their way, and they’re the most human looking out of the group.  We don’t know what they could pull out of their whatever.”

“But they’re otherwise just as vulnerable as any other human being?” Admiral Montferrat asked, a smile creeping onto his face.  “We could just space them before we get to the planet and be done with it.”

Danres shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable.  “Not everything can be solved by giving your gunnery crew target practice…”

Montferrat paused at the comment, momentarily surprised, before the smile crept back onto his face again.  He waved his hand absently, returning his attention back to the projector.

“The point still stands,” he continued.  “They are not Force born, nor of a species that can withstand anything different from humans.  They  _ can  _ be killed, it will just take extra effort to do so.”

“It will still be a bad idea for any of us other than Lord Vader and Luke to engage them,” Tanbris pointed out.  “Nevermind the contest the Emperor is holding; I personally would not like to face off against someone with a lightsaber.”

Aphra paused a moment, fiddling with the controls for the projector, before she cast her gaze over to Kreel’s image.  Unlike her, the medical staff refused to clear him, largely due to the tendons in his arms and legs needing to be reattached.  He looked absolutely miserable in his holo, knowing it would be a damn miracle if he walked unassisted again, on top of probably being insanely doped up on whatever pain meds they had him on.

“Speaking of Force stuff,” she began, pulling her eyes away and clicking the projector controls.  An image of the Mirialan woman they had run into on Malachor popped up, though she looked much healthier, despite the fact the image she had was an old Republic incarceration photo.  “Meet Barriss Offee, a former Jedi Knight. She had been responsible for a terrorist attack on the former Temple before the end of the Clone Wars, which killed a number of citizens and Jedi both.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ahsoka shift uncomfortably, a sad expression on her face.

“She was imprisoned by the Republic, and that was the last known record of her.  She was presumed dead with the other Jedi, but that’s definitely not the case.”

Kreel let out a rude sounding noise at that.

“Barriss used to be a healer,” Ahsoka spoke up, “one of the best in the Order.  Considering what she did to Kreel and Aphra, she’s using those skills to rip bodies apart instead of mend them.  The best thing to do if you find yourself facing her is to get out of her sight as fast as you can.”

“Or not confront her at all, preferably,” Vader rumbled from the head of the table.  Aphra made a face at that, but did not comment. Really, it would have been great not to confront her, if she had given them the choice.

“The point is, she’s definitely someone Wrinkly sent after us, considering her last known location,” Aphra continued, clicking off the holo projector.  “He’s on to us. He might even know who we all are. If we need to be on any missions with you or Luke, it will need to be in disguises.”

Danres let out a sigh at that, sinking into her seat as Tanbris gave her back an amused look.

With a few last words of what to expect in the future and in regards to the upcoming fights on Shu-torun, the meeting broke up.  A few lingering words were exchanged, and Aphra caught Montferrat telling Danres he could assist in faking some of her papers so she could move more freely within the Empire, but it was not long before they were all trickling out of the room, save Vader.  He remained where he was, a contemplative (not to mention a little lost) tilt to his helmet. Aphra paused, studying him, before approaching, settling herself on the table in front of him. His gaze turned up to her, though he said nothing.

“You’re a mess without him,” she finally said softly.  “Let me go find him. My role in this can easily be given to Danres.”

Vader seemed to sag, like he  _ really  _ wanted to take her up on that.

“No,” he replied.  “Appearances must be maintained.  If I send any of you after him, the Emperor will know, and he will know he means more to me than I have told him.”

“He probably already knows,” Aphra pointed out.  “From here on out, it’s best to assume that whatever we do, Wrinkly’s gonna know.  And I dunno if anyone’s told you, but you’re not subtle.”

She got the distinct impression she was being glared at, but once again, Vader said nothing.  Aphra met the supposed grimace hidden behind his mask with a cheeky smile, before her expression sobered.

“He’ll be okay,” she said.  “He’s made of tough stuff. He comes from you, after all.”

Vader seemed to relax a little at that, and Aphra hopped off the table, giving his armored shoulder a comforting pat, before heading out.

~.oOOo.~

“I still think this plan is crazy, Leia.”

Luke held on tight to the vine in front of him, glancing nervously at the water below.  It had barely been a week since they were stranded on this planet, and already their supplies were dwindling.  They had started heavily rationing what military grade food they had left, but they both knew it was not going to last forever, not to mention how hungry they were every night.  At least they were okay on drinkable water; the tropical atmosphere provided plenty for the moisture vaporators he built. Unfortunately, they had to use the plasma pack from his blaster, leaving him without a weapon, and he did not  _ dare  _ ask Leia for one of her lightsabers.

Which was why he was up on a cliff, looking down at the water, and the dark shadow that lingered just beneath the surface.  It looked big — it  _ felt  _ big — and he was  _ really  _ uncomfortable about being used as bait for it.

“You don’t trust me?” came Leia’s voice over his comlink, and he glanced toward where she was standing on the shore, lightsaber at the ready.

“I didn’t say that…” he muttered.

“Look, we don’t know how long it will be before someone finds us, or if they’ll be friendly when they do,” she replied.  “We need a food source, and I’m tired of being hungry.”

Luke let out a sigh, unable to argue with her.  He tightened his grip on the vine, tension rising up through his arms and to his clenched teeth as he heard the familiar  _ snap  _ of a lightsaber igniting.  One last glance over in Leia’s direction to make sure she was ready, and Luke was off, running full tilt for the edge of the cliff.  His feet met the air as he dropped, the vine snapping taunt as he swung low over the water.

The shadow beneath the surface started to grow, and Luke squeezed his eyes shut as the primal feeling of  _ hunger  _ overwhelmed his senses.  The water burst below him as a giant fish sprang from the water, mouth open wide to swallow him whole.  He could feel Leia rushing forward, lightsaber humming loudly as she struck out at the creature, bringing it splashing down toward the shore with one swift strike.

Luke did not dare open his eyes until his feet hit the rocky surface of the cliff he had jumped from, taking a moment to blink against the sunlight.  An excited  _ woop  _ met his ears in the next moment, and he turned to see Leia throwing her arms over her head in excitement, her lightsaber still lit.  It took her a moment to collect herself, but Luke could not help but chuckle at the triumphant smile on her face.

Hours later, long after the sun had fallen, found the two of them by the campfire outside the remains of the ship, R2 whistling happily as the two of them polished off their first  _ real  _ meal in days.  Luke felt a little guilty for eating like he was a bantha, especially after the complaining he had done over being the bait for this meal, but the giant fish tasted like heaven after so many days of ration bars.  At least Leia was in a similar state; she had eaten so fast that she let out a loud burp when she finished, having the grace to give him a sheepish look, before falling back, sprawling out on the ground.

They sat in silence as Luke finished off his portion, steadily aware of her mood becoming more and more melancholy.  He glanced over at her, before laying out beside her, trying to follow her gaze. She peered over at him a moment, before pointing up at a specific bright dot in the starry sky.

“Alderaan is still up there,” she explained.  “I guess the light from the explosion hasn’t reached this far out yet.”

Luke did not say anything, feeling his heart ache for her.  He could remember that brief flash of pain, the screams; it was something that would stay with him for the rest of his life.  He could not even imagine how Leia felt about it, how intensely she must have felt the destruction, with it being her home planet.

“How did you learn all this?” he asked finally.  “How to survive, how to hunt? No offense, but that doesn’t seem like something a princess would learn.”

Leia glanced over at him, before she laughed softly.

“I ran away from home for the first time when I was nine,” she explained, drawing a surprised noise from Luke.  She flashed a happy smile at him, a mischievous look in her eyes. “I was always worried my parents were planning to marry me off to a prince I had never met.  So I ran off when I was little and hid in the woods. It took the palace guards a week to find me; best week of my life.”

Luke laughed softly, shaking his head.

“I ran away more times than I can remember,” he replied.  “It wasn’t until I was eleven that I was actually able to make it off Tatooine.  When I did, I…”

Luke fell quiet, and after a moment, he felt Leia’s hand find his, squeezing it tight.  He glanced over at her again, a brilliant smile on his face that was reflected in hers.

“I can’t begin to understand how it feels to have lost your entire planet,” he said softly.  “But I understand what being without a home feels like. Our aunt and uncle may still be there, but Tatooine was never home for me.”

He squeezed her hand, feeling the empathy and understanding pass between them.  She let out a soft breath, looking back up at the sky.

“There are so many worlds out there, Luke; worlds with people just like us,” she said, “staring up at the same sky, dreaming the same dream: about peace, about a better future.  That way, at least, even though we’re without a home, we’re not alone.”

Luke closed his eyes at that, a soft smile coming to his face.  For a moment, he could feel it; an entirely galaxy of Imperials and Rebels and those in between like he was, all dreaming the same thing: of a world made free from fear and hatred and despair.  He could feel their father was definitely among those dreamers, and he knew that Leia could feel him too.

~.oOOo.~

There were pockets on Shu-torun that had enough stable ground for troop and transport deployment.  Even some of the caves were large enough for an AT-AT to fit through. Unfortunately these caves were narrow, making the lumbering behemoths easy targets, especially when the ore-barons knew their own territory better than any debrief they could hold.  It left Vader watching from the edge of a cliff, arms folded over his chest, as one of their transports fell, the head of the mechanical beast billowing out smoke as it crashed to the ground. He glanced back as he heard troops approach, not at all surprised to see Trios among them.  They had already had this argument during the debrief, and it seemed they would be having it again.

“You should not be here, Queen Trios,” he said.  “The Empire is expending considerable resources to support your rule.  It would be troublesome to replace you.”

“As there is no other royalty to fulfill the role of War Minister, I must take that role myself,” she retaliated, fixing him with a glare that was far too bold for anyone to focus on him.  “So as queen and warlord, I say this: we  _ must  _ retreat.  The ore-barons are too strong.”

Vader could not help but roll his eyes beneath his mask.  He had to forgive this; she was, after all, a vital part of their plans, but she was so painfully young and inexperienced.  One could only hope she would learn from this war.

“You understand nothing, Queen Trios,” he reminded her.  “This is nothing but a show of force.”

Vader lept from the cliff, landing easily on the burnt out husk of the AT-AT as troops descended the conventional way.  The area quickly filled with blaster fire, and he took point, reflecting fire that came his way. He was only one man with one lightsaber, however, and there was not much he could do against a canon blast from the delving citadel they were marching toward.  The bodies that were not immediately disintegrated were tossed into the air like dolls, and he heard Trios let out an alarmed noise as a helmet came to a stop at her feet.

“We’ll never take them in a frontal assault, Lord Vader!” she shouted at him.

He spared her a glance, before he turned his gaze to the rocky ceiling above.

“That is correct,” he replied, just as he caught sight of a woman in an officer’s uniform approaching him.  It only took one look at her face to identify her, and as much as he was loath to admit it, her skills were much needed in this endeavor.

“Report, Voidgazer,” he ordered.

“All is well,” she replied.  “Your assault provided ample distraction.  My droids are primed and ready for your order.”

“Now.”

With the precision of any Imperial soldier, Voidgazer turned, lifting her gaze to the ceiling.  Barely a second later, explosions ripped through the rock above, sending debris raining down on the citadel below.  Immediately, a low shudder trembled through the area, cracks appearing around the explosion, before the ceiling burst, sending lava pouring down on top of the citadel.  The entire structure instantly began to melt, along with everyone and everything that had been inside.

“Hm… apologies, Lord Vader,” Voidgazer remarked, her visor-like prosthetic focused on the remains of the citadel.  “I was hoping for greater devastation.”

Vader paused, glancing back to where Trios was standing amongst his troops.  A horrified look was on her face, unable to tear her gaze away from the structure.  After a moment, she clutched her hands to her chest, her gaze flicking over to him, as if begging for a logical reason for all this.  He held her gaze a moment, before turning away from her.

“It will never rebel again.  That is all that matters.”

~.oOOo.~

Trios was still feeling unsettled even hours later, safe within the walls of her family’s citadel.  She did not think she would be easily able to wrangle the ore-barons into something like cooperation, especially with how her family died.  But this level of wanton destruction… she could not get the image of the delving citadel melting out of her mind. All the people inside…

She was still struggling to pull herself together when she was summoned to the war room like a common soldier.  It made irritation churn in her gut, and by the time she made it to the war room, she was close to snapping as she threw the doors open.  It seemed that her bold entrance interrupted a conversation between Lord Vader and that… unsettling man that called himself a doctor, as well as his young prodigies.  She did not let the awkward silence curb her emotions, striding into the room with her retainers and guards close behind.

“What now, Lord Vader?” she demanded, getting him to turn toward her briefly.  He seemed to regard her balefully, before turning to a holo of enemy troop movement.

“The rebellious barons are clustered in the mantle,” he reported.  “After today’s demonstration, we will see how many now understand the wisdom in submission.  If any do not, we will repeat the lesson until they learn.”

Trios felt her blood run cold, the sight of the melting citadel with her people inside coming fresh to her mind once again.

“That… you would do that  _ again…?” _

Vader turned away from the holo, focusing his gaze on her.

“The ore-barons are greedy, and want nothing more than their riches,” he explained.  “We will show that any who resist will have  _ all  _ their possessions swept away.”

Trios did not know where she was pulling her courage from, but somehow it was enough to stare right back at that death mask.

“We must remember why we are fighting,” she began.  “If we do not reclaim the delving citadels, we will never be able to fulfill the Empire’s demands.  And this is  _ my  _ kingdom.  You must—”

She cut herself off as there was suddenly a gloved finger in her face.

“All  _ you  _ must do is obey, Queen Trios.”

He swept out of the room without further comment, leaving Trios quietly fuming.  She did not need to look to know that both her retainers and the doctor’s minions were trying to keep themselves from out right laughing at her.  Trios took a deep breath, gathering up her courage behind her rage and marching off after Vader. She followed the billowing shadow of his cloak to the quarters he had been given, and she was not at all surprised to see it was dark inside, making him just as difficult to see.  That was not going to stop her, however.

“We were not finished, Lord Vader.  I am queen here!”

Vader half turned toward her, the faint light reflecting off his helmet the only indication he moved.

“You are.”

Trios had a full objection ready to whatever response he had for her, but his simple agreement had her faltering.  She stared after him for a long moment, before she let out a soft breath, her irritation fizzling out.

“...you are a far better actor than I, Lord Vader.”

“I have had almost twenty years of practice,” he replied.  “You are still young, and have much to learn.”

He turned away from her, just as a hyperbaric chamber hidden in the darkness opened up.

“I will show the illusion of barely given respect in public, Queen Trios.  But know that you have it, no matter what may be said.”


	28. To War

The people of Danres’ planet were a simple folk that lived simple lives; even the richest person in their tiny community had modest accommodations, most of their money usually going into maintaining their lands, which in turn benefited the community as a whole.  It was why, while the opulence of Shu-torun royalty was a sight for her to behold, it was also getting to the point where she had to struggle not to roll her eyes at it. Apparently the fortress they had just arrived in was an ancestral retreat for the royal family, centuries old and perhaps even more luxurious than the royal citadel itself.  It was a bit much, and the fact the place served no military purpose was not helping her opinion any.

Even  _ Morit  _ was taking issue with it, and she could not help but glance at him from her position behind Vader as he spoke up.

“This is my first war,” he admitted, his gaze drifting to his sister as she leaned against one of the richly decorated windows, gazing out at the lava that surrounded them, before turning his attention back to the queen.  “But spending time in a place with little in the means of defense strikes me as utter folly, Queen Trios.”

The Queen — who had seemed in a constant state of stress before coming to the place, and had since relaxed — favored Morit with a gentle smile.

“Which shows what you know of Shu-torun, Morit,” she admonished gently.  Even that seemed primed to set off the young man’s short fuse, but one glance from Vader had him pulling himself back.  “This place is a wonder of our world,” she continued, not commenting on the exchange. “The blessed adamantine shoals swim these lava flows.  It has been a place of peace for thousands of years.”

Danres glanced over at Tanbris beside her, who seemed to have the same doubts she was having.  It had been a day since Vader had destroyed that delving citadel, and sent out his warning to the other ore-barons.  A day, and yet there had been no response from any of them. Morit was right; sacred place or not, it was a bad idea for them to be here.

“Look!” Aiolin suddenly exclaimed from the window.  Vader’s head immediately snapped toward her, but just as he was about to approach, they all could hear the distant sound of a cannon firing.  The entire structure rocked a moment later, and Danres felt Tanbris grab for her protectively.

“This is blasphemy!” one of the queen’s retainers shouted as the structure settled.  “Who would  _ dare  _ open fire on a sacred site?!”

Danres fumbled to the window as Aiolin moved to the side so others could see, the citadel rocking again from another hit.  In the lava below, jutting out from the flows like a water bound ship, was a war machine, bristling with fire power. Even from this distance, she could tell the cannons aimed at them were ancient, but even projectile firing weaponry was effective against a stationary target.

“We should evacuate,” she said, turning back to the others.  “That thing looks like it could tear this whole building apart.”

Danres looked up as a strange noise escaped from Vader’s respirator.  He gazed out at the colossal warship a moment more, before sharply turning, striding out of the room.

“We will not give them the satisfaction,” he said, as the twins exchanged glances, before following him out, Queen Trios not that far behind.  Danres spared another glance at Tanbris, having a feeling they were heading into another Skywalker Plan, before the both of them hurried to catch up.

They arrived on the landing platform just in time to see Vader shoving the pilot of the queen’s personal craft aside, climbing into the cockpit himself.  The twins and the queen were boarding just behind him, and the two of them had to run to jump aboard just as Vader started to take off. It left them scrambling for handholds as the lord immediately pushed the ship as fast as it could go, and they did not need to be able to see outside to know they were heading straight for the warship.

“Lieutenant,” Vader called sharply as soon as they drew even with the ship, leaving Tanbris scrambling to the cockpit of the small craft to take over.  Danres craned her head around just as Vader came into the already cramped passenger area, slapping his hand on the hatch release. It slid open smoothly, revealing the black hull off the warship beyond.

“Ensign, guard the queen,” he ordered her before leaping to the other ship, cape billowing out behind him.  Trios looked like she was going to follow him, and may well have if Danres had not shot an arm out to keep her back.  The queen spared her a glance, before shouting after Vader instead.

“I don’t understand!  What are you doing?!”

Vader glanced back, the heat of the lava sending his cape flaring about him.

“I am going to war,” he replied simply, before turning to the bulkhead before him.  “Twins, with me.”

Morit and Aiolin were jumping out of the vehicle next, leaving Danres and the queen behind.  The former watched as Vader cut his way into the warship, and they could hear a scream from inside as he dropped in on whatever poor fool happened to be in his way.  The queen stared as the twins followed him inside, before turning an incredulous look to her.

“Is he always like this?” she asked, prompting a slow, amused smile to grow on Danres’ face.

“You should see him when his son’s around.”

Queen Trios raised both eyebrows, only to duck back into the ship as a laser blast hit uncomfortably close to the open hatch.  Danres pulled her blaster immediately, blindly firing in the direction the blast came from, getting the satisfaction of hearing a man fall off the warship.  She hazard a glance outside the ship, spotting others in Shu-torun armor coming out from hatches on the war machine. Someone else started firing before she could, and she glanced down to see the queen pressed against the other side of the hatch, taking the occasional pot shot at the soldiers when she had an opening.

“You’re tenacious, you know that?” she asked.  “No wonder Vader’s so confident about your rule.”

The queen spared her a smile, before the two of them continued shooting at the soldiers that appeared, protecting their ship.  It was not long at all before the machine started to list to the side, precariously dipping down toward the lava. Trios picked off the last of the soldiers that appeared, just as the twins reemerged on the hull.  They leapt for the ship, Morit landing easily inside as Danres offered Aiolin a hand to help steady her. Vader appeared just after she was secured inside, the ship starting to sink faster. Despite that, the lord still made the jump without assistance, with only the hem of his cloak catching the lava.  He ignored it, the fire quickly going out as it tried and failed to gain purchase on the armor weave, and he strode into the cockpit without a word to take control of the ship back from Tanbris.

Trios stood from her crouch as they sped away, her gaze on the warship as it sank into the lava.  Danres watched her a moment, worrying her lip, before she spoke up.

“I don’t understand your religion, your majesty,” she began, “but I get the impression that wasn’t nearly a suitable enough punishment for their sacrilege.”

Queen Trios said nothing, but her hands tightening into fists was answer enough.

They were able to return to the citadel sanctuary without incident, Vader easily landing the ship back on the platform.  He left the vehicle first, stopping at the hatch to offer the queen a hand down, just as the retainer from before ran out to them, Cylo not that far behind.

“My queen!  What is this idiocy!  This foolishness!” the man exclaimed, and Danres stopped short as she was about to exit out behind the queen, both eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.  The man grabbed Trios by her shoulders, looking just shy of shaking her. “You are endangering yourself! Your position is of a war  _ leader,  _ and a  _ ceremonial  _ one at that!  You are not a warrior to be involved in silly adventures—!”

Trios looked like she was struggling for a way to respond to the hysterical man, before Vader assisted.  His lightsaber came to life in his hand, shooting between the queen and her chamberlain. Trios did not move, but the man jerked away, staring at Vader in alarm.

“Your words put you in greater danger than the queen ever was,” he warned.

The man trembled, fumbling for a response, as Trios merely smiled.

“Thank you, Lord Vader,” she replied as he withdrew his lightsaber.  “I’m sure Jooli was merely speaking in high spirits.”

She gave the man’s arm a reassuring pat, before her expression turned cold, enough to freeze the lava that surrounded them.

“I was in no danger, and I have no intention of turning away from threats such as these,” she continued as Danres and the others finally made their way out of her ship.  “The barons say they rebel in order to maintain our traditional values, yet they attack our most holy of sites. They have shown their hypocrisy, and their true motive of pure greed has been made clear.”

She stepped forward, looking boldly up at Vader.

“I recognized the vessel, Lord Vader,” she said.  “It belonged to Lord Rubix. I trust you will find no issue in giving him an Imperial education?”

Danres had to fight against a smile at that.  Vader? Take issue with striking out against someone that attempted to embarrass him by forcing him into a dance?  Even he seemed amused, if the tilt of his helmet was anything to go by.

“As you wish, your majesty,” he replied.  He turned, starting toward the inside of the citadel, before adding over his shoulder, “Cylo, make sure your abominations are ready.”

Both Danres and Tanbris moved to follow him inside, though not before noticing Cylo narrowing his eyes in irritation.

~.oOOo.~

“Not even a ‘doctor’! If he knew what he owed me—!”

Aphra froze as she heard Cylo’s voice griping from somewhere below her.  Sneaking on board the creepy scientist’s personal ship had been a  _ lot  _ harder than she thought it would be.  She  _ swore  _ everyone on this thing had eyes in the back of their heads, and would not have been the  _ least  _ bit surprised if that was actually true.  By some miracle she had managed to make it into the vents, and was slowly belly crawling her way toward where the central computer was supposed to be, if the information Triple Zero had… “acquired” was accurate, when she heard the mad doctor complaining.  Gee, she  _ wondered  _ who he could have been referring to…

She was about to crawl away, to get her part in the mission done as quickly as possible, when she heard another voice, filtered through com static.

“I don’t understand, Cylo.”

There was a pause.

“Don’t worry, Grand General Tagge,” came Cylo’s voice again.  “Old business, irrelevant to the war on Shu-torun. What do you think of the war’s progress?”

Aphra froze again, frowning.  The Emperor’s pet stooge? What was he doing just contacting Cylo?  Sure, Cylo was another one of Wrinkly’s pets, but he was not military personnel.  There was no reason for him to be contacting to discuss military matters so casually.

Aphra settled back, deciding to listen to more just as Tagge let out a stressed sigh.

“Exactly as frustrating as you’d expect.  I am not fool enough to deny that Vader is great, but great is not  _ good.” _

Aphra could not help but grin.  Oh, this was going to be good; she wished she had something to snack on.

“The storming of the magma submersible is an example of his  _ many  _ flaws,” Tagge continued to complain.  “Vader is not exactly over-confident, but you cannot gamble like he does.  He wins grand victories in the same amount of time I win a thousand small ones.  He can win battles, not wars. Clearly, the campaign must end favorably… but it would be good if it was seen as the  _ Empire  _ who triumphs, not  _ Vader.” _

There was a pause, and when Cylo spoke again, his voice sounded unsettlingly  _ darker.  _ “I would agree entirely, Grand General.”

Aphra hunched back as best as she could in the cramped space, a chill running up her spine.  What started out as hilarious whining about coworkers turned into backstabbing conspiracy  _ really  _ fast.  She could hear Cylo below, assuring the Grand Stooge that he had an acceptable plan for removing Vader from the field, but she continued forward.  She doubted he was going to discuss his diabolical plans over a holocall, and just knowing the two of them were conspiring together would be enough for Vader.

Moving quickly and quietly, she made her way to the end of the vent shaft, peering out of the grate to see her destination at the other end.  There was only one guard in the room that she could see, but he was just under her position; it would be hard for her to sneak in and take him out at the same time.

Aphra bit back a curse, carefully working the screws holding the grate off, holding onto it to keep it from falling.  Once it came loose, she held onto it tight, keeping her grip on it as she slipped down to the ground below. The movement caught the guard’s attention, but he did not even get the chance to turn around as she beat him over the head with the grate.  He fell to the deck plates like a stone, and she stood there frozen for a moment. When she did not hear anyone, she reached up, carefully sliding the grate back up in the vent for later.

With that accomplished, Aphra made an immediate bee-line for the central computer, a devious grin on her face as she pulled out the slicing equipment she customized herself.  As soon as it was plugged in, however, the computer immediately started fighting against it, sending the handheld device a scramble code she easily recognized.

“You amateur…” she murmured.  Old Mimban was the number one thing archaeologists were trained to look for first, and using it as a scramble code was just asking to have your system hacked.  A few taps from her, and the scramble code cleared, allowing the device to do its work in cracking Cylo’s systems wide open. It was not long before the computer was giving her the all clear, and part of her wondered if Cylo was just that arrogant, or if she was hacking her way into a trap.

The thought was quickly dashed from her mind as she found a wealth of data pouring before her, all of Cylo’s experiments at her fingertips.  She very nearly let out a squeak of delight, swapping tools in favor of cloning the entire database. Once the drive started chugging away at all the information, she started browsing it herself, curiously poking around files on the mad doctor first and instantly regretting it.   


Ugh, that was a  _ Rodian _ eye he had grafted on his face!  She thought that was a prosthesis like all his creations!

“Let’s just… skip that…” she muttered under her breath, shuffling deeper into his experiment files, to a little data cluster marked “deployed”.  She frowned at that, bringing it up, and nearly froze solid when she found herself face to face with the technical read-out of a  _ very _ familiar suit of armor.

“Why do you have this…?” she murmured to herself, tapping and navigating her way through file after file, trying desperately not to be sick at some of Cylo’s notes.  She was so engrossed in what she was reading, that she did not even notice her device had finished cloning the drive until it let out a loud  _ ding,  _ making her jump a foot in the air.  She snatched it from the computer, hooking up her slicer again to cover her tracks, before quickly scrambling up the vent shaft.

The sooner she got this out of here, the better.

~.oOOo.~

Aiolin Astarte did not understand much about Shu-torun.  When the debrief they had described the world as a mining culture, she had expected the people to be those of the earth, roughly worn and hard working.  The opulence and aristocracy she had experienced so far was completely removed from what she imagined, that the fact  _ she _ was completely  _ different  _ from all of them was all the more obvious than it usually was.  She did not know what to make of how she felt about it, other than awkward.  Normally she would let such feelings slide, but since they had been let out into the galaxy, away from Cylo’s gaze and his teachings, the fact that her and her brother were  _ different  _ was becoming a constant presence in her thoughts.

Thankfully, in one instance, they were not so different from other humans: they  _ loved  _ a good fight.  Once they returned to the queen’s main citadel, the two of them had chosen to spar in one of the training halls — which felt more like a grand coliseum instead of a training facility — and it was not long before they had gathered a crowd of both soldiers and courtiers alike.  It made the thrill of their sparring session all the more palpable, made her fight  _ harder,  _ even if the end result was the same as it always was when she faced her brother.  She held up her hands in surrender as her lightsaber was ripped from them, an amused smile on her face as Morit smirked, before closing his own down.  Polite applause came from the crowd, and her brother turned to soak it all in, but her own gaze was drawn elsewhere, to where a dark figure was lurking in the shadows of one of the many balconies above.

After a moment’s deliberation, Aiolin collected her lightsaber, before jumping up, the rockets in her feet activating and propelling her up to the balcony.  She landed on the railing easily, hunching down into a crouch, in time to see Vader turning away from the droid that accompanied him. He moved for his lightsaber, but she held up her hands in a peaceful gesture.

“When we fight,” she began as he lowered his hand, “who will win?”

An odd sound came from his respirator in response.

“Your gaudy mechanical trickery is nothing compared to the power of the Force,” he replied.

Aiolin shook her head, slipping off of her perch.

“You misunderstand; I wasn’t referring to you.  My brother and I, when we play for keeps, who would win?  There can be only one, after all.”

If it were possible, Vader seemed even more displeased by her words than he already was by her presence.

“You have been sold a fantasy, child,” he replied, the baritone of his voice dripping with cold.  “There is no future in the Empire as it stands for  _ either  _ of you.”

Aiolin paused a moment, finding his phrasing odd, but not questioning it.  Instead, she made sure to file the memory away in her backup processing, to review at a later date.

“Then help me.  Train me. Spar; whatever you wish,” she requested, clasping her hands before her and bowing slightly.  “I want to be as good as I can, and you are a living legend; a glorious memory of a time that was lost when I was a child.”

For a moment, Vader seemed to seriously consider her request, and she felt something… odd, like a probe was being used in her cranial processing unit.  The sensation disappeared quickly, however, and Vader was turning away from her.

“The lessons I have to teach would be of no use to you,” he replied, and Aiolin was taken aback by his tone.  He almost sounded…  _ gentle.   _ “Were my… apprentice here, you would be able to learn more from him.”

The dark lord left, leaving Aiolin with the distinct impression he had been about to refer to his apprentice as something else.  She could not understand what, and the whole exchange left her confused. That boy was weak, a child; what could anyone possibly learn from him?

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris was a well trained Imperial officer; he was good at following orders, and good at keeping his emotions in check.  Still, even  _ he  _ could not help but feel a little nervous as he boarded the Shu-torun combat drill with Danres by his side, knowing full well they were walking into a trap.  Aphra, thankfully, had come back from her part of the mission unscathed, but she barely said anything to any of them before leaving the planet and boarding safely on the  _ Devastator.   _ Instead, she had left a message with Triple Zero that both Tagge and Cylo were conspiring to remove Vader from the coming battle.  Considering her hasty retreat, nothing concerning what was about to happen inspired any kind of confidence.

Lord Vader settled himself in the command chair of the drill as it started forward, Imperial soldiers at the controls instead of the usual Shu-torun staff.  The Astarte twins were there as well, much to Tanbris’ surprise; if this was part of the trap, Cylo was throwing his best into the middle of it. That was a risky gamble; either he was overconfident or he knew he was springing a trap they could not escape from.

“We must be careful on the approach to Lord Rubix’s citadel,” Cylo’s voice came over the com.  “There are many seams of deadly Shu-torun ores on the path there.”

“The queen’s palatial drill will remain in the second wave,” the queen’s chancellor announced soon after.  “She can observe the final triumph.”

Tanbris had gotten the distinct impression that the queen had  _ not  _ been happy about that.  He had been quick to realize she was a woman of action, much like Danres, and did not appreciate her staff treating her like delicate glass.  He spared a glance toward the rebel woman by his side, who let out a faint sigh before returning it, clearly thinking the same thing.

“This is the last battle,” Vader announced.  “There will be much to observe.”

Danres looked like she had to fight against a smile at that, and Tanbris could not help but shake his head in amusement.  It seemed like Lord Vader was in his usual spirits when it came to going into battle. He almost felt sorry for this Rubix.

Tanbris settled himself in his position behind the lord’s command chair, mentally preparing himself for when they would arrive at the battle site, when the lights in the combat drill suddenly flickered.  They snapped out almost immediately after, taking the screens and other electronics with them. The drill was suddenly, inexplicably dead, yet they were still moving, momentum bringing them drifting through the rock, and the nerves that had been churning in Tanbris’ gut suddenly jumped up to his throat.

“Lord Vader, the controls have failed!” one of the command officers reported, just as an unsettling  _ lurch  _ went through the whole vehicle.  Tanbris grabbed the back of the command chair with one hand, flinging his arm around Danres as she did the same, just as gravity started to work against them.  The drill was pulled downward, sending them falling through the rock much faster than they had been moving, and if they ever came out of it, there was no way for any of them to tell if there would be a solid surface on the other side.

~.oOOo.~

Trios stood sharply from her command chair as the display screen showed Lord Vader’s combat drill veer off course.  It hit a lithoporoite seam, and proceeded to drop completely off the map, disappearing from sight entirely. The drill very well could have dropped all the way to the lower mantle of the planet, which meant…

“We’ve lost him…” she murmured, dropping back into her seat.  This was impossible to think of; there was no way Vader could be so easily killed, not by a vehicle malfunction…

“Get me Doctor Cylo,” she ordered, getting back up from her seat.  The doctor’s unsettling face appeared above the holoprojector in the center of the command room almost immediately, like he had been expecting her call.

“Doctor, we must begin the assault.”

The doctor, however, shook his head, an almost amused look coming to his face.

“Without Lord Vader, we do not have a clear chain of command.  I’m afraid we must retreat.”

Trios very nearly swayed on the spot, disbelief at what she just heard written all over her face.

“I am Queen Trios of Shu-torun!  I protect the forges of the Empire!” she reminded him sharply.  “I command you to—”

“You command Shu-torun, your majesty,” the doctor interrupted her, his voice unsettlingly calm.  “Do not think you could ever hope to command Imperial forces.”

Trios struggled not to  _ fume  _ as the holocall winked out.  No, anger would get her nowhere here.  Now was the time to take action, not lose control like a spoiled child.

“Chancellor, we are proceeding,” she said to Jooli instead.  “We fight alone.”

There was a pause, and Trios got the distinct impression she was being mocked behind her back.  She turned sharply on the chancellor, to see him focusing a strained, patient smile on her.

“Your majesty, as you recently ascended the throne at such a tender age, I have the traditional advisory veto on such decisions.  I will not let you advance without Imperial support.”

Trios felt her blood run cold at that, a feeling she could not describe settling low in her gut.  She was starting to hate that word,  _ tradition;  _ it had been thrown in her face more times than she could count in the last few weeks.  Everyone around her was so set on staying still, that they did not realize the rest of the galaxy would leave them and their  _ traditions  _ to rot.

“Jooli, we  _ must  _ attack,” she finally managed to reply.  “We are letting this opportunity slip away!  We must have faith that Lord Vader—”

“If faith is all you have,” Jooli interrupted, “it’s lucky I am here to hold your reins.”

Trios narrowed her eyes, and before she herself could process what she was doing, she pulled her blaster from its holster, leveling it point blank at his chest.  The old man did not even have the decency to  _ pretend  _ to be alarmed by the action, instead keeping that strained smile focused on her.

“Jooli, you have served my father for a long time,” she began, frost clinging to every word.  “I give you one last chance to change your mind.”

That strained smile turned into a mild look, and he shifted on his feet like the blaster was not even there.

_ “Chancellor  _ Jooli,” he reminded her, like she was still a child.  “I have been so for the last forty years. Conversely,  _ you  _ were never meant to be queen, and you should know your place.  You’re not going to shoot me.”

Trios held her gaze on him, her blaster remaining trained on his chest, but she was seeing beyond him.  She saw her father over the years, sitting on the throne, larger than life and imposing as he stared down at her.  All her life, she had been told what she never would be, to the point she believed herself useless. When she was given the roll of sacrifice, she had been so willing to do it and do it  _ well,  _ because it was something that  _ she  _ was meant to do.  She thought herself still a sacrifice, and in doing so, made herself an expendable ruler, a queen with a crown too heavy to bear.

She refused to be a sacrifice any longer.

“Of course not,” she finally said, her voice taking on a commanding tone more befitting of her station.  She holstered her blaster, before motioning to the soldiers stationed in the room. “I am queen now. I have people to shoot for me.”

Finally, Jooli looked alarmed as a soldier stepped forward, his canon trained on him.

“Kill the traitor.”

Trios did not bother to look as her former chancellor was blasted off his feet, and barely even heard his smoking corpse hit the floor.  She turned, her cloak sweeping about her legs as she returned to the command chair, settling on it with all the grace expected of a queen on her throne.

“Gentlemen, to war.”


	29. And We Dance

Danres let out a groan as she realized the combat drill had suddenly, abruptly stopped, feeling herself waver in place as gravity put itself under her feet.  She lifted her head from where she had tucked it against Tanbris’ chest as they fell, looking around the cockpit. Troopers had been tossed around like rag dolls, some of them slowly getting back to their feet, a few others unnervingly still.  Those that had been fortunate enough to be strapped in chairs were already pulling themselves together, working at the consoles and trying to bring systems back up online. Danres reached a hand around the command chair, her shaking fingers immediately finding Vader’s arm.  She felt his glove brush against her hand almost reassuringly, before he stood from the chair.

“What is our status?” he demanded.

“We’ve hit solid rock,” one of the command crew answered immediately.  “Gyroscopes have leveled the floors, but that’s about all we have functioning at the moment.”

Danres heard Aiolin let out a groan as she picked herself off the floor, her brother already up and moving.  It looked like she had not been able to grab ahold of anything, and her brother had not tried to hold onto her either.  Danres could not help but scrunch her nose at that; what a jerk.

“Where are we?” Aiolin asked, just as the whole drill rocked.  Danres’ eyes widened, for a moment worried that the drill was going to fall over.  When the structure rocked again, she realized it was not because they were unstable; something was  _ firing  _ at them.

“In a trap,” Vader answered blandly, his lightsaber coming to life in his hand.  “Activate siege defenses, now.”

The drill shuddered a moment later, this time as turret guns opened along the lower end of the vehicle, firing back at whomever was shooting at them.  Vader turned, starting out of the command room, and Danres moved to follow him, only to stop short. She looked down, raising an amused eyebrow at the hand still firmly planted at her waist.

“Tanbris…” she began mildly.

He let out a confused noise, which quickly turned into a startled one as he realized what he was doing.  He let go of her soon after, absently adjusting the collar of his uniform and pointedly  _ not  _ looking at her as they both hurried to catch up to the lord.

They came up to Vader and the troopers that now accompanied him just as he reached the exit, the reinforced spiraling door opening slowly.  Immediately they were caught in a swarm of lasers as Shu-torun soldiers opened fire on them, shooting down two stormtroopers before any of them could get to cover.  Vader and the twins took point, lightsabers flashing brilliantly as blaster fire was returned, with their own blasts soon joining the fray. Even with that much, however, they were still heavily outnumbered.

This was some trap Cylo had dropped them into; there was no doubt of that.  Danres could not help but wonder how he planned on explaining making some kind of deal with the ore-barons and slaughtering a whole contingent of Imperial troops  _ just  _ to have a stab at Vader.

“Stars, we are not going to make this,” a stormtrooper sergeant near them muttered.  “We’re going to die here.”

“We’re not dead yet, trooper,” Tanbris replied, blindly shooting from cover, before ducking down, pulling out his comlink.  “Triple Zero!”

“Yes, Master Tanbris?”

“Activate the battle droids!”

Danres could hear the murder droid let out a delighted noise, though it was quickly drowned out as a laser blast hit too close for comfort, destroying part of the rock they were hiding behind and forcing her to scramble for different cover.  She let out a breath once she plopped back down, turning to see Tanbris look like he was going to leap after her, but she waved him off. She brought herself up once she caught her breath, firing off two shots, before ducking back down once more.

Weird; this was what it was like being behind the Imperial line?  It was not that much different from the Rebel battle lines, just the blood was easier to see on the uniforms.

A moment later, the sky opened up above them, as the battle droids Aphra had made to replace the ones they lost on Cylo’s ship rained blaster fire down on the Shu-torun attackers.  The men quickly retreated from the sudden attack, pulling back out of range and giving them a moment to breathe. It was not going to last long, she knew that, and Danres was fast to pull herself up, checking the charge on her blaster as she made her way over to Vader.  He was silent for a long moment, using his boot to turn over one of the fallen enemy soldiers.

“These are Rubix’s elite,” he finally announced as the twins and Tanbris joined them.  “He has gambled everything in removing me from the equation, but what he doesn’t realize is he has made me unnecessary.”

“My lord?” Tanbris asked curiously.  Vader glanced at him briefly, before turning away.

“With his elite here, his citadel is relatively unprotected,” he explained.  “Queen Trios need only attack with her own forces.”

“We’ll need to contact her,” Danres pointed out.  “Our long range comlinks are probably down right now, but we could try to slip in past enemy lines and—”

“No,” Vader interrupted.  “There are tunnels under us that will put us out of range of their jamming signal.  I will go.”

Both Tanbris and Danres tried to protest, but Vader was already turning away, his focus shifting to Aiolin and Morit.

“Twins, with me,” he ordered, before striding away.  The twins exchanged looks, following after a moment later.

Tanbris and Danres stood there for a long moment, finally glancing at each other once the three of them disappeared from sight.  It did not take much to realize Vader was doing this on purpose, and neither of them were willing to bet the twins would be coming back alive.

“We need to find what made the drill shut down like it did,” Tanbris finally said, motioning to the stormtrooper sergeant from earlier.  “We will hold here until Lord Vader returns.”

Even with his helmet on, it was easy to see the exasperation the trooper was feeling.

“We  _ can’t  _ hold here, Lieutenant,” he replied.  “We’re target practice here. Even with the droids, once they regroup, we’ll be overwhelmed.”

Danres was about to say something, to  _ try  _ to give the man some encouragement, when a voice over Tanbris’ comlink cut her off.

“If I may, Master Tanbris,” Triple Zero began.  “I believe I may have a solution to our problem.”

Tanbris glanced at her, and Danres bit her lip, concern written all over her face.  She  _ really  _ did not like how the droid said that…

“Triple Zero, I hope you’re not joking around right now,” she said.

She imagined if the droid was an organic, he may have let out an evil chuckle before he spoke next.

“Oh, Mistress Danres, I am  _ quite  _ serious…”

~.oOOo.~

Vader found it amusing when others claimed he was not subtle at times, like he was being so unintentionally.  There was no  _ point  _ in him being subtle; he was over six feet of mostly durasteel covered in a black shroud.  While there were times he could hide himself and his intentions if he chose, there was little point in subtlety, when intimidation was just as effective.

It was even more amusing when others showed a distinct lack of subtlety around  _ him, _ as if they could get away with it.  Even now, as they walked over land bridges far above lava flows, he could feel the deceit coming from the twins as clearly as he would be able to  _ see  _ it if he did not have his back to them.  With Aiolin, at least, there was a certain reluctance, born out of the respect she had for him, but her loyalty to her brother mattered to her more.  Regardless, he was not the least bit surprised when the two of them struck out at him from behind, almost casually raising his lightsaber over his head to intercept the attack.  He shoved them away with the Force, turning just as they landed on the ground a few feet away from him. Morit recovered first, turning a sneer up at him.

“I can’t believe you trusted us.”

Vader let out a scoff his vocoder refused to interpret.

“If I trusted you, I would have left you at the siege,” he replied.  “Instead, I chose to test your character.”

He raised a hand, beckoning the twins to attack if they so dared.

“You failed.”

He could feel Aiolin’s hesitance again, but it was drowned out by Morit’s hot-headed determination.  He charged for him first, his sister just behind him, and the area was lit with a cacophony of green, yellow, and blood red as Vader fought them off.  Morit, as usual, was a reckless beast that he knew he could overpower with little effort, but Aiolin’s reluctance was putting her at an even worse disadvantage than usual.  He shoved her away at the first opportunity, not interested in fighting her if her heart was not in it. She went tumbling head over heels down the path they had just taken, pulling herself up just as he knocked Morit down to his knees.  Vader raised his lightsaber, intent on ending his pathetic excuse of a life.

“Morit, get back!”

He felt the danger coming as Aiolin lifted her arm, and did not need to see the miniature rocket she fired to know he needed to  _ move.   _ Vader jumped away from Morit as the young man scrambled toward his sister, leaving the rocket to strike the ground where they had been standing.  It exploded on impact, sending the land bridge crumbling into the lava below.

Vader recovered himself quickly enough to see the twins on the other side.  Aiolin was gazing over at him, her mouth moving, but he did not have time to boost the sensors in his mask to hear what was being said.  In the next moment, Morit was shoving his elbow into her back, sending her flying over the edge.

Time seemed to slow, and in a blink, it was not Morit standing on the other ledge.  Luke lifted his head toward him, lips twisted up in a sneer that did not belong on his face.  Yellow eyes bore out at him hatefully from across the lava, before he glanced down, an almost serene look coming to his face as he watched his sister falling, screaming…

Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and silence rang in the air, only to be broken by a startled yelp.  It took Vader a moment to realize he was holding a hand out, unconsciously using the Force to keep Aiolin from falling into the lava.  Her cloak was too close, however, and it had caught fire, forcing her to discard it as he held her there. In the next moment, he pulled his senses together enough to tighten his hold on her, lifting her over to his side of the gap.

“I guess the weak need to stay together!” Morit called over as Vader pulled her over to safety, keeping a firm grasp on her wrist until her feet were secure on the ground.  “We know your little friend raided the computers, Vader!” Morit continued. “Cylo says he hopes you enjoy the reading material!”

He saluted them with his lightsaber, before heading off.  Aiolin collapsed to the ground, staring after him as he disappeared down the path, before bowing her head.

“Are you going to kill me yourself?” she asked softly.  “Just do it quick, please. I’ve lost this game.”

Vader raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, returning his lightsaber to its clip before hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“I see no point,” he replied blandly.  “Your life is your own, Astarte. You are no longer tied to Cylo or your brother.  Do with it as you see fit.”

Aiolin was silent for a long time, unmoving, and for a moment, Vader wondered if she was machine enough to shut herself down.  She finally shifted, pulling her lightsaber from her belt. Her hands ran over it, her eyes unreadable as she gazed on the hilt.  Finally, she let it go, leaving it to roll out of her hands and off the ledge, landing in the lava below. She turned, looking up at him, her expression tired and worn, before she finally stood.

Vader waited for Aiolin to come to his side, before he turned, starting back to the combat drill with her.

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris had to struggle to keep the surprise off his face as he looked up to see Vader returning with Aiolin at his side.  She was unarmed (though he knew that did not mean anything), and looked a bit pensive and lost, like she was not even sure if her footing was secure.  He could only imagine what may have happened back there, and he almost felt pity for her.

Vader paused once he was before him, for a moment glancing over Tanbris’ shoulder.  Stormtroopers were busily disarming Rubix’s forces, cataloguing weapons and taking names for the sake of prisoner of war documentation that would need to be passed on to Queen Trios’ forces once they rejoined her.  He could almost see Vader raising an eyebrow at the display, before he focused on Tanbris.

“Status report, Lieutenant.”

He even  _ sounded  _ confused, and he did not need to look next to him to see Danres fighting against an exasperated sigh.

“Baron Rubix’s forces have surrendered, my lord,” he answered.  “They’ve lifted the signal jamming and provided the means to re-enable our combat drill.  We’ve sent word to Queen Trios, and she is already enroute to the citadel.”

“P-please!” one of the soldiers behind him suddenly begged.  “Lord Vader, we’ll do whatever you wish, just don’t let your blood sucking droids near us!”

Tanbris, by some miracle, managed to remain stone faced at the outburst, though again, he could easily picture the flat expression beyond the lord’s mask.  Danres let out a stressed sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and giving Vader a look that  _ begged  _ him not to ask.  For a moment, it seemed he would ignore it, his mask tilting to the side and spying Triple Zero by the battle droids.  The murder droid seemed entirely too pleased by the ruse he had used, convincing the baron’s forces that the droids had needles installed, and were programmed to drain the life from their enemies.

At least, he  _ hoped  _ it was a ruse.

After a pause, Vader shook his head, electing not to ask.

“Get us moving as soon as possible, Lieutenant,” he finally ordered.  “This war has gone on long enough.”

Vader turned to leave, before he paused, his gaze turning toward Triple Zero again.

“...and contact Aphra.  Inform her the droid factory may have been tampered with.”

~.oOOo.~

Lord Vader was coming.

Trios repeated those words to herself again and again as she set foot on the battlefield, leading her troops to war herself.  His name alone was inspiring her to be confident in this endeavor, confident in  _ herself,  _ as well it should.  Ensign Danres had said herself that Vader had faith in her rule; not being inspired by that knowledge would be an insult to him.  She may not have his power or experience, but she  _ would  _ have his confidence as she led her soldiers as he would lead his.

The amazing thing was, it  _ worked;  _ her troops rallied under her battle cry, striking fear in the hearts of Rubix’s men and forcing them on the retreat.  For the first time since this all started, no one questioned her, no one told her the proper way to act or what she was expected to do.  For the first time in her  _ life,  _ she felt powerful, finally in charge of her own destiny, and it was a  _ glorious  _ feeling.

By the time Vader’s combat drill re-emerged from the earth, her troops were storming the citadel, and instead of joining them, Trios stood at the entrance to the drill, waiting for the lord to join her.  He paused once he made it out, his troops rushing past to assist in the assault as he gave her a curious look. She returned it with a faint nod of acknowledgement, before she turned, starting forward with Vader not that far behind.

It did not take long to find Baron Rubix; they only needed to find one of the many exits out of the citadel to see him fleeing like a coward, clutching the hand of his youngest daughter tightly.  He stopped short once he saw them, his eyes flicking between Vader and her soldiers, before finally settling on her. He screwed his face up in disgust, taking a bold step forward.

“No matter what punishment you  _ think  _ you can deliver, I—!”

“Enough!” Trios snapped, her voice alone enough to make the baron step back.  “Thousands are dead because of your insatiable greed. I’ve no patience for whatever flowery speeches you wish to give me.  Execute him.”

His daughter screamed as the soldiers opened fire, leaving several smoking craters in the former baron’s chest.  She knelt by her father’s side once his corpse hit the ground, sobbing uncontrollably as Trios folded her arms over her chest, giving her a moment as she attempted to recall the woman’s name.

“You will take your father’s place,” she began once she remembered.  “I name you Baroness Bixene. You will go to the other rebelling barons and tell them to make peace.”

Bixene shook her head, turning her tear-stained face up to her.

“T-that is not the line of succession,” she protested.  “The eldest brother—”

“Will be overjoyed by my wisdom,” Trios interrupted.  “As he should know that objecting to my decisions carries a certain treasonous air.”

She turned without further comment, striding back down the path she came, with Vader by her side.  There was a certain tilt to his helmet, like he was seeing her for the first time and unsure what to make of it.

“Are you certain this is wise?” he finally asked once they were out of earshot.  Trios glanced over at him, an amused twist to her lips.

“I find young rulers not expecting power have a certain… resilience to them,” she replied.  “Baroness Bixene will either rise to the occasion, or I will ensure she is… properly educated.”

A strange noise escaped from Vader’s vocoder, before he turned his attention forward.

“As you wish.”

~.oOOo.~

With Baron Rubix dead and Cylo’s treacherous deal with them to bring down Vader exposed, the other baronies quickly surrendered, bringing a swift end to the war.  Of course, this meant their lives were forfeit, and the rest of their group remained for the next day or so to ensure Queen Trios did not need assistance in rounding up any unruly barons.  It seemed for nothing, however; Trios’ newfound strength had her more than capable when it came to dealing with them.

Aiolin knew she should have been happy in the midst of all this.  She still had her life, even though she nearly lost it at the hands of her own brother, and she was free from Cylo’s teachings.  She could leave, could find her own place in the galaxy… but instead, she felt so listless and lost, she was not sure what to do.

The time finally came for them to leave, with Vader’s two officers heading up into his personal shuttle first.  She went to follow, uncertain what else she was supposed to do, when Vader held out a hand, stopping her, but keeping his focus on Trios.

“I trust you will be able to handle the ore-barons from here, your majesty?”

Trios offered him a warm smile.  “I am already having the first of them executed as we speak.   _ They  _ will not survive, but their lines will.”

Vader tilted his head curiously, prompting an amused look to come to the queen’s eyes.

“We are a mining culture; all things must be supported,” she explained, her eyes flicking up toward the cockpit of the shuttle.  Aiolin followed her gaze, in time to see Danres playfully nudging Tanbris as they worked on the pre-flight sequence together. “Something I believe you understand more than you let on.”

Vader paused at that, the tilt of his head almost making it seem like he was  _ smiling. _

“Perhaps so,” he replied, before turning slightly, waving her forward.  “I leave Aiolin Astarte in your care, so she may support you, as I imagine you will do the same for her.”

Aiolin stared at him, eyes wide and a protest forming in her throat, only for it to die before it could make it past her lips.  She knew what Vader would ask if she did say anything: would she be able to face her brother and Cylo if she went with him, and the answer was no, not right now.  Maybe sometime in the future she would be, but considering Vader’s feelings when it came to Cylo, she doubted either of them would live that long. Instead, she clasped her hands before her, bowing respectfully.

“I will do everything in my power to look after the queen, Lord Vader,” she said.

“And it is my honor to host her,” Trios replied, favoring her with a warm smile, before her gaze slid back to Vader.  “Is there any chance I may host others of your team in the future?”

Aiolin straightened, a confused look coming to her face, feeling like she was in the middle of an inside joke she had not been let in on.  A strange noise escaped from Vader’s vocoder, before he shook his head almost ruefully.

“I may send my son to you sometime, Queen Trios,” he replied.  “He would do well learning from the young rulers of Shu-torun.”

He turned to board his shuttle then, leaving Aiolin standing there in stunned silence.  A… son? Lord Vader had a  _ son?   _ Her backup memory processing kicked in then, bringing up the memory she had filed away for later: the mention of his apprentice that she had found odd.  That boy… he was not  _ just  _ an apprentice, he was a  _ son.   _ And… the likelihood that he was actually more powerful than he had been displaying…

Cylo would want that; Cylo would want to get his hands on that, and Vader had to know.  That was why he was so insistent on the fact they would lose the Emperor’s challenge; it was not for the sake of intimidation or overconfidence.  He  _ had  _ to win; he had  _ no choice. _

Aiolin turned her gaze up as the shuttle began to take off, rising into the air slowly before shooting off for space.  She still felt lost, more so after that revelation, but she could not help but think of the old Jedi well wishes, feeling that they were appropriate right now.

_ May the Force be with you, Lord Vader… _

She felt Trios’ hand on her shoulder, and Aiolin finally turned her attention away from the shuttle, taking in the queen’s gentle, if sad, smile.  She guided her around, looping their arms together as they started back inside the royal citadel.

“Tell me, Aiolin,” she began, “have you ever danced before?”

She let out an awkward noise at that, caught off guard by the question.  “No, your majesty.”

The queen patted her arm reassuringly.  “Very well. I will be happy to instruct you.”

“I don’t think—”

Aiolin cut off her protest as she noticed the queen’s expression had changed, to the same kind of smile she had been giving Vader before.

“Shu-torun is a highly courtly culture, my dear.  If one is on Shu-torun, one  _ must  _ dance.”


	30. As the End Nears

Luke frowned to himself as he kept the macrobinoculars he was using trained on the water, increasing the distance on them one more time.  The results of a large splashdown were still there, the water shifting and churning unsteadily, but no sign that anything was coming back up.  He had been hearing the sounds of something large out in the ocean for the last few days, but there had been no sign of marine life big enough to make that kind of noise, nor had they been assaulted by Imperial troops.

Just as he was about to turn away and give up, however, something _very_ large landed in the water.  He actually got to see it that time, the telltale signs of an Imperial drop ship hard to mistake for anything else.  If they were dropping troops instead of shuttling down, they _definitely_ were not friendly.

“Leia!” he called, turning just as her head tilted into view from around a tree.  “We’ve got incoming. Definitely hostile forces.”

She frowned, emerging from the jungle foliage to come stand beside him on the beach.  He offered her the macrobinoculars and she took them, focusing on the location of the last splashdown.

“Are you sure?” she finally asked after a moment.  “Don’t they deploy faster than this?”

Luke could only shrug helplessly; by all means, they should have either been dead or in Imperial custody by now, if all those splashes had indeed been drop ships.  He was about to suggest they refrain from lighting fires at night, when he became aware of an… _odd_ presence; definitely not human, but not hostile either.  Leia seemed to sense it as well, turning her gaze around before finally looking down to the water.  Amongst the waves, blended so well with the ocean that Luke could not see it at first, was an amphibious creature, fish-like, yet not at all like the fish they had been hunting.  It rose out of the water slightly, and Luke’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the blue striped helm of an aqua diving trooper.

Well, _that_ certainly answered the question of why they had not been attacked yet.

“Looks like we have allies on this planet,” Leia said, offering a smile to the creature, which it returned gladly, motioning for them to follow it into the water.

“Hold on, I think I saw breathers on the ship,” Luke said, turning to head back.

Before long, the two of them were diving beneath the waves, swimming after the fish-like creature.  Luke quickly became aware of _many_ more such creatures around them, and he glanced to the side, prompting one with a spear to give him a friendly wave.  There was a sense of friendship and brotherhood coming from them, though he was not sure why. Perhaps because they had been living off the land peacefully?  Or the death of that giant fish some time back?

He did not have long to dwell on it, as they came up on a beautiful reef that extended out far into the ocean depths.  Luke could immediately see the problem the creatures were having that prompted them to reach out to the two of them: parts of the reef were broken, and he could see the remains of drop ships far below them.  The careless splashdowns had disrupted their home, and who knew how many of them were injured or dead because of it.

Luke’s gaze turned to Leia, and she looked up to him, her eyes narrowed fiercely as an unkind smile started to form around her breather.  It was very clear she had an idea, and he nodded, motioning that they should return to the surface. He was the first to emerge from the water once they swam back, shaking droplets from his hair as he pulled the breather out of his mouth.  Leia was right behind him, the determination from before lingering on her face, though it was slowly being replaced with confusion. She held up her hand after a moment, a cord dangling from it, and Luke’s eyes went wide, a hand going to his neck.

“This _is_ yours?” she asked, though it seemed less like a question and more like a confirmation.  She moved the cord about in his hands, until she was palming the stone that hung from it.  “You’ve had a kyber crystal this whole time?”

“Is that what it is?” Luke asked, incredulousness coming to Leia’s face when she realized he was not being sarcastic.  “I didn’t know; Tanbris said I was clutching it when father rescued me over Yavin.”

She stared down at it, the brilliant green of the stone glinting in the light, before she handed it back to him.  He let out a grateful noise, slipping it over his head and tucking it under his shirt.

“Why haven’t you built your own lightsaber yet?” she asked.

Luke tilted his head curiously.  “Father said building a lightsaber or bleeding a crystal releases energies into the Force that are hard to ignore…”

He trailed off, his gaze shifting to the lightsabers at her hips.  Leia’s hand immediately went to one of them, her face paling.

“...I’m going to _kill_ Maul.”

Luke had to fight against a smile, reaching over and taking her other hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said softly.  “The Emperor’s been so tied up in trying to manipulate me and father, he might not have noticed.”

Leia did not look like she believed him, and frankly he was not so certain himself, but that was something for them to deal with in the future.  They had more pressing concerns at the moment. He gave her hand one more squeeze, before letting it drop.

“So, what’s your plan?”

A slow smile came to Leia’s face, and for a moment, Luke almost felt sorry for whatever troop detachment that was trying to find them.

~.oOOo.~

Leia had to admit, her plan was crazy, but it was crazy enough to work with just the three of them.  They stood side by side on the shoreline, R2 letting out the occasional worried warble as nervous apprehension drifted between her and Luke.  Thankfully, the little droid still had enough power left in him for what they were about to do, otherwise there was a chance this would not be as successful.

The sun was just about to set, when she finally turned to her brother, gently touching his arm.  His gaze shifted down to her, curious and concerned at once, and again she found herself baffled by how kind and open with his feelings he was.  A reassuring smile flashed across her face, before she pulled something from her pack, pressing it into his hand.

“You should take this,” she said softly.

He held his hand up, staring at the cylindrical object in wonder.  He brushed his fingers over it, like he was committing every detail of it to memory, before he turned a questioning gaze to her.  Leia found herself hesitating, knowing that she needed to tell him, to explain, but not sure for a moment if the right words for it would come to her.  Luke was patient for her, waiting as she took a deep breath and collected herself.

“It belonged to… to our father,” she explained, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as soon as she said it.  She was not alone in being _Darth Vader’s child_ anymore; saying it out loud had made it real for her, and it was more of a relief than she thought it would be.  “I think he would want you to have it, until you’re ready to build your own.”

A gentle, happy smile came to his face, before he grabbed her up in a hug, holding her tight as the last rays of sunlight disappeared under the horizon.  She squeezed him back just as tight, emotion clawing at her chest.

“...I love you, little brother.”

Even as she said it, it did not feel right.  No, Luke was the older one; perhaps by only a few minutes, but still.  It did not seem to matter to him, his laugh warm and happy before he pulled away, enough to plant a gentle kiss on top of her head.

“I love you too, big sister.”

R2 let out a happy noise, before rocking against Leia’s leg, letting them know it was time and they needed to _move._ She gave her brother one last squeeze, before pulling away, keeping her eyes on him as she started for the jungle, until he finally turned his back to her, staring out into the ocean.

Leia and R2 split at the treeline, the droid heading to his designated spot as she headed further in.  It did not take her long to locate the tree she had scouted out earlier, climbing up and breaking through the canopy, just in time to see Luke ignite his lightsaber, bathing the beach in a brilliant blue.

Almost immediately, she could see a flash in the sky, and not long after, something _much_ larger than a drop ship splashed down into the ocean.  The water churned and bubbled, before the _massive_ bulk of an AT-AT walker rose from the depths, a number of troopers coming up alongside as it pulled itself onto the beach, metal feet sinking into the sand.  Luke remained where he was, staring all of it down like he had an entire army of troops behind him.

“Drop your weapon!” she heard a trooper shout at Luke over her comlink.  Her brother let out a faint noise, like he thought the order was funny.

“You’re not part of the Five-oh-First, are you?” he asked, though if was clear from his tone that he already knew the answer to that.  Still, it seemed to be enough to confuse some of them, as the response took a moment to come.

“I said, drop your weapon!”

Instead, Luke raised his lightsaber, settling into an aggressive stance.

“Come and take it.”

The stormtroopers did not get a chance to fire a single shot as R2 took his cue, his arc welder flashing as he lit the dried brush they had gathered on fire.  The beach lit up as flames overtook it, forcing the AT-AT to lumber towards her hiding spot as Luke began cutting down troopers. The transport tried to put itself at an angle to fire at him and minimize friendly fire, but Leia was faster.  She leapt from her hiding spot, lightsaber flashing to life as she dug it into the neck of the mechanical beast. Using momentum and the Force, she flung herself around, lightsaber hissing through metal the entire way until she came to the top of it.  With one _push,_ she sent the severed head tumbling to the ground, able to hear the pilots screaming the whole way down.  Without the cockpit, the rest of the body was deadweight, and the legs buckled and started to crumble even as troops scrambled to get out.

Leia ran along the outside hull as it fell, clinging to the side as it landed with a resounding _thud._ What troops survived scrambled to get out, tried to turn and fire on her.  Her other lightsaber came to life in her hand, reflecting fire before she jumped again, landing in the middle of them.  She was a whirlwind of death in the next moment, cutting down anyone that dared to even _attempt_ to shoot at her.

All told, the attack only lasted a few minutes, and Leia was left gasping for breath as the flames died down, dead bodies laying at her feet.  She glanced across the way to Luke, in a similar state. For a moment, they held each other’s gaze, slowly coming down from the high of battle, relief passing between them.

They were both on the move once the last of the flames died out, heading toward the fallen cockpit of the AT-AT.  They had a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra had spent the time since coming back from Cylo’s ship a nervous, twitchy mess.  There had just been so much data on _that one thing_ alone that she had not been able to get through all of it, even a couple days later.  Frankly, she was not brave enough to _stomach_ all of it, which led her to the question of _what was she still doing here?_ She did not owe a single one of them anything, nor did they owe her.  The smart thing to do would be to take this data, sell it off to the highest bidder, and… and then what?  Retire? Run forever?

She was still trying to figure that out when she could see Vader finally coming around the corner of his private wing on the _Devastator._  He stopped mid-stride, tilting his head in what had to be confusion as she leaned against his door, offering him a little wave.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Can this wait?” he asked.

“No.”

“Aphra…”

“Cylo had the complete technical readouts on your everything.”

Vader froze when she blurted that out, staring at Aphra for a long moment.  He finally waved his hand, using his Force voodoo to open the door to his private quarters, making her stumble inside.  She recovered as he strode into the room, the door snapping shut behind him.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Aphra replied.  “I’m still trying to comb through the data, but much of it dates back almost twenty years.  A few longer back than that.”

Aphra got the distinct impression that if it were not for the mask, Vader would have stopped breathing.  She had to take a moment to steady herself, before she continued.

“Look, we already knew the Emperor was the bad guy here,” she began.  “He’s betrayed and backstabbed the entire galaxy a million times over.   _You_ especially, but he _talks_ to you, gives you information he gives no one else.”

She paused, glancing nervously over to the hyperbaric chamber.  It was wide open, waiting for Vader and served as the only source of light in the room.

“I read some of the stuff on your mask,” she continued.  “You have the components of a stock SoroSuub comlink built in there, pretty much ripped out of an old trooper helmet.  I can splice it into your hearing processing; when you activate it, you can send whatever you’re saying _and_ hearing over a secure channel.”

Vader was silent, so still that she was worried for the first time in a long time he would just strangle her and put an end to it.  He finally moved, grabbing a breath mask and tank that was tucked away behind the chamber, handing it off to her, before entering the device and settling on the chair inside.  Aphra could feel her insides shake as she put the mask on over her mouth and nose, ensuring it was secure, before following him in. She tried not to jump as the chamber thumped closed, tried not to fidget as the hyperbaric sequence stated, pumping pure oxygen into the chamber.  It felt like forever before a mechanical arm descended, latching onto Vader’s helmet. A faint hiss escaped from it as the seal was undone, and as it was lifted up, off of his head, Aphra found herself peering up at the inside. Sure enough, she could see needles on the inside, poised in such a way that they could penetrate his scalp.  She did not see the point, other than to torture someone, even though the files listed their use as “measuring brainwaves”. What a load of—

“Aphra…”

Instead of the booming bass, the voice that called her name was thin and strained.  She looked down to see another armature had removed the mask, and she found herself staring at the true face of Darth Vader.  His skin was deathly pale and heavily torn, to the point where she was a little worried some of it was actually _rotting._ There was not a hair to be found on his head, and a very noticeable scar, clearly done before all of _this,_ ran over his right eye, just like his son.

Also just like Luke, he was staring up at her with the most _brilliant_ pair of blue eyes she had ever seen.

“...well,” she finally said, reaching up to take the mask from the arms before they retreated.  “I see where Luke gets his good looks from.”

An annoyed frown twisted onto Vader’s face, near-bloodless lips pursed in irritation.

“You are not as amusing as you think you are,” he replied as she flopped down in the cramped space, curling up on herself with her back pressed up against his chair.  She started pulling tools out from her belt pouches, trying to pretend she was in all business mode at the moment.

“Maybe not, but he’s the only other person I know with eyes as blue as yours.”

It was hard to miss the silence that fell over the chamber was a bit _stunned,_ and it left her wondering when the last time he had actually seen his own face _was._ She shuffled around in her pockets, finally pulling out a hand mirror and reaching up, not letting go of it until he gingerly plucked it from her hand.  She went to work on the mask immediately after, devoting all her attention to making the modifications and giving him a moment of peace.

It was a long time before she was finally able to pick herself off the floor, turning to him to see he was still holding the mirror delicately, though he had slumped in his seat, a hand covering his face.  An unpleasant twinge hit her heart at the sight, and she found her hand reaching over, settling over his.

“Hey,” she said softly.  “Save the regrets for when everything’s over, okay?  Maybe by then, you won’t even need them.”

He pulled his hand away, taking hers with it as he looked up at her with those blue eyes again.  It was another moment more before he nodded, sitting up straight and allowing her to fit his mask back on.  A few rounds of testing to make sure everything was working later, and the helm was coming back down, sealing Vader back into his own little world of pain again.

Aphra waited for the end cycle to finish and the chamber to open before removing her own mask, taking a deep breath of ship recycled air that felt like heaven compared to the little tank she had been wearing for who knew how long.

“Now we’ve got another means of collecting information,” she announced, stepping out of the chamber, before turning around to face him.  “Maybe even stuff we can give to ‘Soka to pass on to the Rebellion.”

Now that she had seen the real him, it was a lot easier to imagine the rueful smirk that came to Vader’s face at that.

“She will have something soon enough,” he agreed.  “The Emperor has summoned me to the Kuat Shipyards to discuss… _personal_ matters.”

~.oOOo.~

The last fifteen minutes had been the most desperate of Luke’s life so far.  After stripping the AT-AT cockpit of all the parts they needed to fix their ship, they both used the Force to sink the remains of the walker into the ocean for the fish people that had protected them.  Eventually, the reef would claim it, making a good home for them long after the two of them had gone. Once that had been accomplished, they set upon their ship, working faster than they had ever worked before to get all the fried systems back up and running.

TIE fighters had just been launched from a nearby Star Destroyer by the time they broke the atmosphere.  Without an Interdictor with them, however, it was easy for Luke to pick the fighters off as Leia took care of the flying, escaping into hyperspace with little effort.

For a few blissful hours, they had nothing to concern themselves with for the first time in weeks.  R2 was whistling happily to himself, finally able to fully charge for the first time since they crashed as the two of them just enjoyed the quiet of each other’s company.  When they finally arrived at Vrogas Vas, Luke was not surprised to see that no one was there. More than once in the last few days, he had felt their father in the heat of battle, though never to the point he would be in danger.  The sensation had been far from them, yet he still could not help but feel disappointed in himself for not being able to get to the planet faster.

“Let’s go down,” he finally said.  “Maybe he was able to leave a ship behind.”

Leia glanced at him, before she nodded, guiding the ship through the atmosphere.  She maintained her attention on the scanners, occasionally glancing out the cockpit as Luke stood from his seat, stretching his senses out as he visually scanned the ground below.

“There!” he exclaimed after a moment, pointing out the familiar shape of their father’s x1 Advanced.  An amused look came to Leia’s face as she brought the ship down low, starting the landing cycle.

“I almost thought he would leave you an eyeball and wish you luck,” she finally said after a moment, struggling against a smile as Luke stared at her in confusion.  He gaped at her once he understood what she was referring to.

“Eyeballs?  You call TIE fighters _eyeballs?”_

He was still muttering in disbelief once they landed, to the point where he almost missed the familiar low booping noise yelling at him from under the Advanced.  His eyes widened after he realized who it was, breaking out into a run, dropping to his knees once he reached the droid and throwing his arms around him.

“Deevee!  I’ve missed you!”

DV-2 let out a razz at that, scolding him for running off on him like he did and demanding to know if he had _any_ idea how fried his circuits were from worry.  Luke let out a sheepish noise as his sister laughed, DV ending his rant with a demand that he _never_ do that again, before leaning into the hug.  He reached up with a hand, rubbing the droid’s head fondly, before standing up again, turning to Leia.

An awkward silence passed between them, filled only by R2 approaching DV, the two of them beeping and booping softly back and forth.

“I… guess this is goodbye,” he finally managed to get out.

“For now… yes,” Leia agreed, looking away.  “I’ll… try to work something out with Hera, at least.”

She ducked her head a moment, letting out a shaky breath.

“I don’t think the Alliance will _ever_ believe that Darth Vader supports us, but…” she began, trailing off as she lifted her head to look at him again.  “If you can have so much faith in him, then I suppose I can too.”

Luke smiled gently at that, closing the distance between the two of them and grabbing her up in a tight hug.  She clung back to him, fingers digging into the back of his shirt, before she pulled away.

“Go on,” she said softly.  “Look after him for us both.”

“I will,” he promised, ducking down a little to place a kiss on her forehead, before pulling away.

~.oOOo.~

Tanbris glanced over at Montferrat as the admiral settled in the conference room, not sure why he had such an amused look on his face.  The others were crowded around the large viewport in the room, staring out at the massive orbital shipyards beyond, particularly the current project that was close to completion.  Aphra had her face pressed up against the glass, fogging it up around her nose as Danres shook her head and Ahsoka struggled against a laugh.

“That thing is way too big,” Danres said finally.  “Why does the Empire have to make everything so _big?”_

“Intimidation, mostly,” Ahsoka replied.  “Republic cruisers were big for similar reasons.  That, and the size tended to mess with droid navigation sensors.”

“I wanna take it apart,” Aphra squeaked.

“Aphra, _no…”_

Montferrat barked out a laugh as Tanbris let out a stressed sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.  Despite his reaction, he could not _really_ blame them; Tagge was ever so fond of his Super Star Destroyers, and the one he requested commissioned when he became Grand General was certainly a sight to behold.  Still, as Danres pointed out, it was _massive;_ too massive to be useful for anything other than an intimidation tactic, considering the astronomical number of crew members that would be needed just to keep the thing running.

“What is Tagge calling that thing again?” Montferrat murmured, getting Tanbris to look over to him.

“The _Executor,_ I believe, sir.”

“Of course it is…” he muttered, shaking his head.

The com unit in the center of the conference table suddenly snapped on, and the ladies quickly pulled themselves away from the viewport.  In the next moment, all five of them were crowding close to the unit as the Emperor’s voice filtered through the static.

“—time for you to understand,” he was saying between static bursts, and Aphra reached out to the equipment she had hooked up, adjusting settings until they had a clearer signal.

“A long, long time ago, there were many Sith,” the Emperor continued, his voice becoming steadily clearer, as if Vader were approaching him.  “We rose up against the simpering Light. We warred against the Jedi, and we lost as we also warred against ourselves. For a thousand years we kept to the shadows, not for fear of the Jedi, but our own nature.”

Aphra looked as giddy as a kid in a candy shop, clearly more excited about a history lesson normal people would never hear, despite the biased viewpoint, than the foreboding atmosphere the Emperor’s words generated.

“The Dark Side is powerful.  It is _too_ powerful.  The weak will meekly stand in regimented order.  The Sith… _one_ master, _one_ apprentice.  No more, for generations.  Generations building to _me.”_

There was a scrape of nails on the table, and they all looked to see Ahsoka’s face screwed up in quietly controlled fury, her hands clenched into fists.

“I am the first to restore the Sith to their rightful place in the galaxy,” the Emperor continued, mirth steadily seeping into his voice.  “As we planned, the Jedi thought the Sith gone; we were so inconsequential. The arrogance of the Jedi was insufferable. _I_ set the galaxy aflame, my apprentice.  I have _purged_ all weakness and impurity.  From the ashes, we would have a new age.”

Tanbris glanced over at Montferrat, seeing the discomfort he was feeling echoed in the admiral’s expression.  This was selfish fanaticism, coming from their own Emperor’s mouth; this was _not_ why they were officers of the Empire.

“I learned from the mistakes of my forebears.  I used those who were _not_ Sith to achieve my aims.  And my apprentices? Darth Maul was a loss, but Darth Tyranus…”

The Emperor paused, letting out a dark chuckle.

“Dooku was a proton torpedo.  He served his purpose in fracturing the Republic and was gone.”

Danres let out a stricken noise, her hands going up to her mouth too late to keep it back.  Horror crept onto her face as she sunk back into her seat, eyes wide and looking like he was going to start crying.  Tanbris shifted over, reaching for one of her hands and letting her cling to him tightly.

“I had a… _superior_ candidate in mind,” the Emperor continued, a grandfatherly tone coming to his voice.  Despite that, Tanbris could not help but be reminded of a used speeder salesman on a backwater world.  “We did it, Vader. The Jedi destroyed! The Republic a shattered corpse for me to resurrect as a puppet!  And you, Vader — the boy transformed into the man you were destined to be…

“And then, Mustafar.”

Ahsoka stood from her seat, starting to pace the length of the room, looking like she was putting herself through calming techniques as she did so.

“Your failure there jeopardized everything,” the Emperor continued, his tone more solemn, almost _careful._ “There was so much more to do.  In these most vital of decades, I needed an apprentice with might.  I sought, of course. I found candidates — but none sufficient. Some with vision but no ambition.  Some fractured souls who I molded to serve a smaller purpose… but all insufficient for the legacy of the Sith.”

There was a heavy pause, before the Emperor’s voice came through as clear as if he were speaking directly to the five of them.

“For the Empire to live, Darth Vader had to live.”

Ahsoka stopped pacing, gripping the back of a chair instead.

“I turned to scientists.  The best, the boldest; the ones more akin to Sith than their Jedi-like peers.  Cylo was among them. In that long night, with their technology, we remade you.  In this way, we saved the Empire. I would have the apprentice I required.”

A haunted look came to Aphra’s face, and she folded her arms on the table, dropping her head on top of them.  Suddenly, she did not seem so interested in what the Emperor was saying.

“I was… intrigued by the scientists.  What could they achieve if unfettered from the hypocritical morality of the Old Republic?  We would see, for is it not my duty to chart the possibilities?”

Vader’s voice answered him, as frigid as space:

“You made a mistake.”

Silence met the accusation, and Danres gripped Tanbris’ hand a little tighter, as if she were worried the Emperor would retaliate.  It felt like forever before he spoke again, his voice sounding distant as he continued.

“Cylo grew powerful.  His tendrils were deep in Tarkin’s initiative, his cancer was as one with its flesh.  If I simply tore him free, I would risk a schism of the Empire’s great minds. While the Death Star was being constructed, this was unthinkable, after its destruction, even more so.  I had to make him overplay his hand.”

Tanbris hated how much frigid sense that made, to the point where he ended up gripping Danres’ hand a little tighter.  She glanced over at him, sparing him a weak smile.

“In the wake of the Battle of Yavin, he came to me,” the Emperor continued.  “‘Darth Vader failed because he had other priorities,’ he told me, bringing me proof of _your_ apprentice; of the son of Skywalker that lived, despite his mother’s passing.”

Another pause, before his voice came through clearer, as if he were facing Vader now.  That grandfatherly tone came back, almost sounding genuine this time.

“Forgive my deception, my old friend.  I am overjoyed for you that he lived. Nothing gave you more power than the driving need to protect those you _loved._ Despite his lack of power, he will be a fine apprentice, and one day, a fine ruler.”

“He’s full of bantha poodoo,” Aphra muttered.  No one disagreed with her.

“But I could not say as much then,” the Emperor continued.  “Cylo showed me his _replacements,_ showed they would be better than any apprentice of the Force.  I played to his ego and suggested he prove himself. My true apprentice would frustrate the copies.  Eventually, driven by pride and desperation, Cylo would go too far. And then, when he was simply a traitor, we could purge him.  Do you understand, Vader?”

“I do,” Vader answered simply.  “If any of Cylo’s toys succeeded, you would be making this speech to them.”

Aphra had to stuff a fist against her mouth to keep herself from snickering at the call out.  A faint smile came to Ahsoka’s face as she finally released her death grip on the chair, shaking her head at how very _Vader_ that comment was, despite the worrying stretch of silence that followed it.

“That does not matter,” Vader finally continued.  “The Dark Side is strength. I am that strength.”

“You are, Vader,” the Emperor replied.  “Cylo has run. Find him. He _must_ be destroyed.”

“As you wish, master.”

Silence rang out over the comlink, though they could pick up the faint sounds of doors opening and closing.  They used the time to slowly unwind from that terrifying conversation, Tanbris immediately turning his attention to Danres.  She still looked stunned from the Emperor’s revelation that the Separatists leader had been one of his apprentices, all but saying that the entire war had been a sham to break the Republic so the pieces could be molded into the Empire.  It made everything she believed in a lie, and he had to keep holding onto her; had to hope that his touch would be enough to keep her grounded.

Aphra and Ahsoka seemed to least affected by all this, though Ahsoka was still clearly struggling against anger, a haunted look coming to her face, as if she were looking back into the past and realizing events that made so much more sense in context.  Aphra was still upset, her finger absently tracing invisible patterns on the table, lost in thought, though it was hard to tell exactly what she was thinking of. Montferrat had taken off his rank plaque sometime during the Emperor’s speech, twisting it in his hands, a lost look on his face.  His hand went to his dead eye after a moment, fingers brushing against the scarring around it, as if remembering the battle that caused it and wondering what it had all been for.

It was not until they heard the hum of a turbo lift that Vader’s voice came again.

“Did you get all of it?”

Aphra reached over, taking their end of the line off mute.

“Every single word, on the record,” she confirmed.  “What do we do now, boss?”

Vader was silent a moment, contemplating.

“For now, we do as the Emperor commands,” he replied.  “Cylo is too great a threat to ignore. He must be eliminated before we proceed.”

~.oOOo.~

It did not take long to find Cylo’s fleet of whale-like creatures; whether it was arrogance or confidence, the man had returned to the Crushank Nebulae, where Vader had first discovered him.  They only took the _Devastator_ with them, and Ahsoka found herself walking its halls by his side like the old days, coming out to one of the many docking bays.  More than a few stares were turned their way as they walked the floor, but she was used to the glances she would get from crew members by now.

“You know, I miss flying with you,” she said.  Vader glanced down at her, and she could picture him raising an eyebrow.

“I believe you mean ‘crashing’ with me,” he reminded her blandly.  “I happened far too often when we fought together.”

“That was part of the fun,” she quipped, pausing to turn to him as they came to a stop in front of his TIE fighter.  He did the same, before nodding to one of the ships behind her.

“Perhaps you will be able to fly with me again.”

She laughed at that, shaking her head.  “You will never get me in an eyeball or a squint.”

She lapsed into silence, the conversation with the Emperor still weighing heavily on her mind as she gazed up at him.  Just how painful was all of this for him? How twisted had Cylo and those other scientists made his body? How much of himself had he _physically_ lost, and would he ever be able to recover any of it?  Aphra had all the data, she would likely find out, but it would take time and… she knew none of them would like the answers.

“Come back safe,” Ahsoka finally said.  “Luke’s coming; I can feel it. He won’t be happy if you get yourself hurt while he’s gone.”

“Indeed,” Vader replied, amusement creeping into his voice.  “He would need to be the one lecturing _me_ for being reckless.”

A memory came fresh to mind, of one of the many times Anakin had been scolded by Obi-Wan, a sullen look on his face as he folded his arms, trying to pretend he was not pouting.  She could not help but laugh as Obi-Wan was replaced with Luke in her mind, shaking her head.

“May the Force be with you, master,” she finally said, the smile lingering on her face as he started to climb into his fighter.  He paused at the hatch, hesitating, before turning back toward her.

“...and you as well,” he intoned softly, before he was all business, as if he had not said anything. “Support the admiral in my absence; ensure the safety of this ship and her crew.”

Ahsoka offered him a half serious salute, backing away once he dropped inside and started up the preflight sequence.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra was curled up before her computer monitors in the workshop on the _Ark Angel,_ her eyes scrolling over the data before her as she felt the Star Destroyer around her ship rock.  She was sitting out the final fight with Cylo, something she was _more_ than happy to do, not that what she was doing was much better.  Part of her was grateful BT had decided to plug into the recharge dock closest to her chair; murderous droid or not, his was a comforting presence while reading over the data on Vader’s suit.

The more she read, the more she was reluctant to tell him about it.  There was just too much; the Emperor and Cylo both had screwed him over to hard that she was almost afraid he would go on a murderous rampage if he knew the full extent of it all.

She reached over, absently rubbing the top of BT’s head like he was a pet as she flipped over to the next document.  The information that greeted her, however, had her freezing solid, eyes widening in horror.

Oh _no…_

She fumbled out of her seat, grabbing for her comlink and startling BT in the process.  He let out an annoyed beep as she scrambled out of her ship, thumbing on the hand unit as she went.

“Ahsoka, where’s Vader!?”

Ahsoka’s voice came back after a moment: “Trying to break into Cylo’s main ship, why?”

A particularly violent hit shook the whole ship then, and Aphra made it to the end of her loading ramp in time to see the docking bay lights go out.  That must have been one hell of an ion blast to knock out the whole ship like that.

“Ahsoka?”

No response; communications were probably down shipwide.  She found herself turning toward the bay exit as the emergency lights came on, to space beyond; she could see Cylo’s fleet of space whales, one of them trailing smoke as it went into hyperspace.  She could guess why it was smoking like that, and fear gripped her heart as she ran back into the _Ark Angel,_ hoping she could get it up and running.

She needed to get to Vader.  She needed to _warn him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably been noticeable that I've borrowed a lot from the comics for this story so far, from events to dialogue. I believe at this point it bears mentioning, as the Emperor's speech at the end of this is almost entirely lifted from the comics. I really don't like doing long stretches word for word like this, but everything he had to say was so important for the driving motivation for the characters in this scene that there was no way around it. There will be much less of this in the future.
> 
> UPDATE 12/19/18: Fixed a few discrepancies, one being a pretty big one with Vader. Sorry, guys; either my reference book for how Vader's put together is wrong, or I was interpreting it wrong. I've also added a couple scenes to help keep the next chapter from being ridiculously long.


	31. Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for last chapter; I fixed a couple of discrepancies, particularly those relating to how Vader's system works. Either my source book was wrong or I was interpreting it wrong, but it's fixed now. I've also added a couple scenes to the end of that chapter to help balance out the length of this one, so if you haven't yet, you will want to go back and read them before proceeding.

Montferrat had a white knuckle grip on the railing of the  _ Devastator _ ’s bridge, holding on for dear life as his ship rocked sharply once again.  Most of Cylo’s fleet had jumped to hyperspace, but one stayed behind. After disabling his ship, the whale creature seemed intent on ripping it apart piece by piece, blaster fire erupting from the its fins and side as it passed them by.

“Status report!” he barked out once the ship stopped shaking.

“Admiral, everything’s down,” someone from the command pit called back up to him.  “We’re trying to get shields back now!”

Ahsoka came up by his side, frowning as they both stared out the viewport.  The whale ship was coming around, the gaping mouth of the creature aimed directly at them.

“Forget the shields!” Ahsoka ordered.  “Get us propulsion back; we need to move!”

Silence met her order, and Montferrat had to suppress an irritated growl.

“Do you ‘gentlemen’ have an issue with answering someone with more combat experience than you’ll ever have?” he demanded.

A chorus of apologies sprang up from the pit, with one person calling out they were attempting to reroute what power they had to the engines.  He could already tell it was not going to be enough, however; the creature was closing in far too fast, faster than its bulk would suggest possible.  He grabbed for Ahsoka, ready to push her out of the bridge. If Lord Vader’s flagship was going to go down, the least he could do was ensure that his plans would not go down with it, and it was very clear Ahsoka, the Fulcrum, was a very vital part of those plans.

Just then, a fighter exploded out of hyperspace, spraying fire at the whale ship.  The green laser blasts struck the creature in the head, sending it veering off course as the fighter’s approach vector forced the pilot to do a flyby on the bridge.  Montferrat stared after it, gaping slightly at the familiar sight of a TIE x1 Advanced. That could not be Lord Vader back already, could it?

“Get our coms back up,” he ordered.  “Get me that pilot.”

There was frantic scrambling to get  _ something  _ working in the pit below.  It felt like ages before someone shouted that they had communications back up, a burst of static crackling over the bridge speakers, before a familiar voice broke through.

“—peat, this is Black Five.   _ Devastator,  _ do you copy?”

A smile broke out on Ahsoka’s face as Montferrat felt his shoulders sag in relief.

“Black Five, you’re late,” he answered.

He could hear a touch of amusement in Luke’s voice when he responded, “Apologies, Admiral.  It won’t happen again.”

An excited noise came from the pit, the field display flickering back to life as a crewman announced he got it up and running.  Montferrat frowned at the holographic image; there were a few other fighters still out there, though with the  _ Devastator  _ unable to do anything and Lord Vader missing in action, there was a breakdown in the command chain.  They did not have a clear leader out on the field… at least, for the moment.

“FL-One-One-Three-Eight, I hereby promote you to Commander,” he announced.  “Acknowledge designation change to Black One and pull our fighters together; get that whale ship off of us.”

An awkward sound came from Luke’s end of the line, like the boy had just choked on something.  It was a fair reaction; Montferrat was not the type to just hand out field promotions, especially for such a large jump in rank.  The current situation was far from typical, however, and an atypical response was the only way to handle it right now. Another faint sound came from Luke, and Montferrat could picture him gripping the controls of his fighter.

“Acknowledged,  _ Devastator,”  _ he finally replied.  “All wings, form up on me.”

A chorus of copies answered him, and Montferrat straightened himself out as he watched their fighters pull together, as if it were Vader himself leading them.  For a moment, he wanted to say that it was because of the ship he was flying, but listening to the chatter quickly proved that an unfair assessment. He was not entirely sure what occurred in the months since he had last seen him, but the boy had clearly grown into a man during that time.  A twinge of father-like pride hit his chest as he watched Luke’s command bring their fighters down on the whale ship, a series of explosions beginning to blossom along its surface. Vader needed to be here to see this; he would have been so proud.

Pods started to eject themselves from the whale ship, and some of the fighters changed their course, picking a few of them off.  There were others that made it through, however, and the  _ Devastator  _ shook slightly from the impact.

“We have boarders!” an officer shouted up from the pit.

“Put all troops on alert,” Montferrat ordered.  Ahsoka reached over to him before he could continue, a determined look on her face.

“I’ll aid them,” she assured him softly.  “This is Vader’s ship, Vader’s men; he’ll need every one of them in the events to come.”

Montferrat nodded in understanding, watching her leave the bridge.  She was right; every person on this ship had worked with Vader for some time.  Many of the senior officers had seen him change over the almost nine years since he had found Luke, and respected him even more for it.  They would follow him against the Emperor, even without hearing what he heard.

“Seal the bridge!” he ordered, before turning his attention to the field display.  The whale ship was out of commission, clearly dead and floating off, away from their ship.  The fighters were picking off what they could of the pods, but there were so many of them; there would be more boarders on their ship, even if one fighter had to leave…

He took a deep breath, knowing what needed to be done.

“Commander Skywalker,” he began, “Lord Vader boarded one of those ships before the rest of the shoal went to hyperspace.  We do not know where he’s gone, but we have reason to believe he is in danger.”

Silence answered him, before a shaky breath escaped from Luke’s end of the line.

“I know where he is…” he murmured, his voice distant, before coming in clearer, like he was focusing on him.  “Admiral, are you—”

“We’ll be fine,” Montferrat cut him off.  “Go, Commander. Your commanding officer needs your assistance.”

Silence answered him again, but when Luke spoke next, he could hear determination as strong as durasteel in his voice.

“Acknowledged,  _ Devastator.   _ Plotting a course to Kuat.  Hyperspace in five, four…”

Montferrat listened to the countdown, watching solemnly as Luke’s ship disappeared in a sudden burst of speed.

“...may the Force be with you, Commander.”

~.oOOo.~

It had not  _ originally  _ been Vader’s intention to recklessly plow his ship into Cylo’s flagship.  But with the creatures about to go into hyperspace, he had little choice. It would have taken far too long to track them, and the mad scientist could have either caused untold damages or buried himself deep in the galaxy, making it troublesome to find him again.  Unfortunately, the crash had knocked him out for a brief time, and he roused back to consciousness to the sight of Cylo’s men outside of his ship, trying to get in.

He raised his hand, calling on the Force to casually snap their necks, before he pulled himself out of his fighter.  It was fairly banged up, but he was sure he would be able to fly it out if he needed to.

Glancing up, he spotted a hatch far above him.  Another wave of his hand, and it flew off its track, allowing him to jump up into the corridor beyond.  It was a tight fit, and the walls were unsettlingly  _ fleshy,  _ a grim reminder that he was inside a living creature.  Metal deck plates clicked under his boots as he started forward, the sound echoing in the tight space.  He was alone, but not for long; a familiar looking droid appeared around the corner, staring at him almost hatefully.

“Good day, Vader,” Voidgazer’s voice came from beyond, and he stepped out into a large chamber soon after.  Like the tunnel, the walls were made of flesh, with metal plates scattered on the floor. She was standing before him, surrounded by her droids, her hands clasped behind her back.

“I’m afraid your journey ends here, my lord.”

Vader’s lightsaber came to life in his hand in response to her bold declaration.

“I understood the twins’ delusions, and Karbin was a soldier,” he began, “but you are a scientist.  What makes you think you could stand against me?”

A faint smirk came to her lips, and she turned sharply on her heel, starting down an adjoining tunnel, flanked by her droids.  Vader moved to follow, only to be cut off as a durasteel door snapped down between them.

_ “I  _ have no need to face you,” Voidgazer replied, her voice coming over a speaker in the room.  “Science can deal with you well enough.”

A tremor shook the room as something opened deep in the darkness further on.  A low growl echoed through the chamber, followed by a thump as something began to  _ move. _

“The beauty of the cyberanimate system is that it can be installed into any organic life form, not just the Trandoshan you fought before,” she continued, as something loomed in the darkness.  Vader stepped back, looking up as roughly hooked claws tore out of the dark, followed by the mottled face of a rancor. Its skin was unhealthily pale, even in the dim light, making it look like a walking corpse, its cybernetic eyes narrowing in on Vader.

He let out a hiss his vocoder refused to interpret.  It looked like he was not going to be able to keep that promise of not getting hurt.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra was holding onto the controls of the  _ Ark Angel  _ like she needed them to survive, tension coiled low in the pit of her stomach.  She did not know what she was doing, what she  _ would  _ do if she got to Vader before he got to Cylo.  Would he even listen to her when she told him what could happen?  No, probably not; he would probably say, “Such things are nothing before the Force,” and go after the nutjob scientist anyway.  Still, she had to at least  _ try;  _ she would never forgive herself if she did not.

The  _ Ark Angel  _ came out of hyperspace, and it looked like she managed to beat the whale ships to the Kuat Shipyards… or maybe they were not coming at all, but she doubted it.  If she were a nutso scientist that had been manipulated by a wrinkly old bastard, she would want revenge; there was no way he would not be coming here.

“Unidentified ship,” a voice came over her com immediately, “you are entering restricted space.  Leave the area immediately. This is your only warning.”

Aphra took a deep breath, slapping on the com switch.

_ “Ark Angel  _ to  _ Executor,  _ this is Doctor Aphra, on retainer to Lord Vader,” she announced.  “I need to speak with him immediately.”

Silence answered her; no doubt she floored whomever was on the other end.  She twitched nervously in her seat, well aware of it when Triple Zero and BT came into the cockpit to observe.

“We have no record of such retainer on file,” the voice finally responded, sounding  _ very  _ confused.

“It’s a recent arrangement,” she replied.  “And look, I know he’s probably not here now, but he  _ will  _ be shortly, and—”

She cut herself off, letting out a frustrated noise.  This was going to take  _ way  _ too long to explain, and they would probably shoot her out of space before she had the chance to finish.

“Look, forget it; clear a space, I’m docking.”

She cut the coms before pushing the  _ Ark Angel  _ full steam ahead, heading directly for the  _ Executor.   _ Behind her, the two droids exchanged looks, before Triple Zero shuffled forward.

“Mistress Aphra, are you sure this is wise?” he asked.

“Never said it was,” she admitted.  Triple Zero stared at her, before he seemed like he would have let out a frustrated noise if his vocal processing would have allowed for it, shuffling away.

By some miracle, she was not fired at as she approached, likely because they thought she was nuts, but she  _ had  _ tossed Vader’s name out there.  Maybe they did not want to take the chance in the event she was telling the truth.  Either way, there were an uncomfortable number of stormtroopers waiting for her as soon as she landed.  Despite them, she worked quickly, shutting down all of the ship’s systems before throwing herself out of her seat.

Of course, she had blasters pointed at her as soon as she lowered the ramp, and Aphra walked down it, keeping her hands up.  Before she could get a word out, however, she was grabbed, a couple troopers trying to get cuffs on her as she struggled.

“Wait, no!” she yelped.  “You don’t understand! He’s in—! He’ll be in—!”

A frustrated growl escaped from her as she was dragged off the ramp.

_ “Triple Zero! Do something!” _

As if in answer, some strange sound started to fill the docking bay, like something was being pumped into the room through the vents.  She did not realize it could be something seriously bad until the first stormtrooper dropped, and Aphra’s eyes widened, her heart leaping into her throat.

“T...Triple…!”

She could not get the droid’s name out; the world around her started to go hazy, before she lost sight of it entirely.

~.oOOo.~

Danres was going to leave.

The Emperor’s speech had been too much for her to handle, and still rang in her ears.  She had taken pride that she was a Separatist her whole life; that her family were one of those that had seen the Republic falling apart before it actually did was something that made her stand tall.  Finding out it had all been a lie, orchestrated to keep the galaxy divided so one man could take power… it was too much for her to stomach.

And Vader knew this whole time.  He had to have, considering how long he had been the Emperor’s puppet.  He knew, and he did not even  _ warn  _ her.

She had just started to grab up the few belongings she had in the room she was given, when the lights went out, and the ship shook a moment later, nearly throwing her off her feet.  Now would be as good of a time to leave as any, and she gave up on her things, slipping out of her room and down the hall.

She had almost made it to the docking bay when the ship rocked again, and Admiral Montferrat’s voice came over the coms a moment later.

“Enemy soldiers have boarded the ship.  All troops, prepare for hostilities.”

Boarders?  Was the fight against Cylo going that badly?  Her hand instantly dropped to her blaster; she could probably pick up a few troops and lead them to—

...what was she even thinking?  She was supposed to be leaving; never mind they were Vader’s men, they did not know the truth behind the lies they were all fed for over twenty years.  She did not owe any of them  _ anything,  _ not even… not even Tanbris…

“There’s one!” someone shouted down the hall, and Danres’ head snapped up to see some of Cylo’s troops, their blasters pointed directly at her.  In the next moment, a blaster bolt was whizzing past her ear, pegging the man in the lead right in the forehead. Blaster fire erupted then, forcing Danres to duck into a narrow alcove, before looking back at who had fired that shot.

“Kreel?!”

The stormtrooper was hunched over, clearly needing to use some kind of brace to keep himself up.  It was making his ability to stay behind cover difficult, and he had to shuffle back to keep himself from getting hit.

“What are you waiting for, you damn fool?!” he snapped at her.   _ “Shoot them!” _

Danres snapped out of her shock then, grabbing for her blaster and firing off a blind shot, giving her a chance to position herself better as Kreel took another shot when he had an opening.  The attack was relentless, however; there were much more of them than they could handle, and an uneasy feeling settled in her gut at the thought of dying like this.

A sudden hum of a lightsaber pulled her out of her dark thoughts, in time to see twin flashes of white fly past her.  Tanbris was just behind Ahsoka, settling into the alcove across from Danres and giving the former Jedi the cover she needed to get in close.  He paused a moment, his gaze turning to her for a heartbeat, and Danres felt her resolve crumbling.

It did not take long for them to deal with their attackers then, not with Ahoska to help them, and Danres stood up shakily, feeling like her insides were going to run off without her.  Kreel shuffled over to her first, and she realized then that he still looked terrible; he was probably still on who even  _ knew  _ how many painkillers.  He had no business moving around, let alone in the middle of a battle, but it did not seem to matter.  It did not keep him from cuffing her on the shoulder, the hit strong despite the fact he could barely lift his arm.

“Th’ hell were you doing?” he demanded.

“Sergeant,” Tanbris snapped sharply, giving him a look that all but said he would not hesitate to punch the man, injured or not.  Kreel shot him an annoyed look in response, grey eyes dark with fury.

“Don’t ‘Sergeant’ me, Lieutenant,” he growled at him, before stabbing a finger at her shoulder. “I know a damn  _ runner  _ when I see one, and I won’t stand for it.  Not while she’s wearin’ our uniform.”

Danres looked down at the black uniform she was still wearing.  She had not thought much about it when she was getting her things; honestly, she had become so used to the feel of it that she forgot she was wearing it.

Her head snapped back up as suddenly Kreel’s finger was in her face.

“You wanna know why I wear the armor?” he demanded.  “Because when it looked like my life would be doomed to the fighting pits because the  _ Republic  _ couldn’t be bothered to protect all the citizens they forced under their name, a stormtrooper came and got me out.  A man in a robe didn’t do that; hard working men and women that were prepared to lay down their lives for the citizens of the galaxy did that.”

Danres’ mouth worked, but she could not get words to come out.  She stopped trying when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned, taking in the sad expression on Ahsoka’s face.

“I know how you feel, Danres,” she said softly.  “I knew the Emperor fairly well when he was chancellor.  He was Ana— Vader’s mentor, and he trusted him more than anyone else except maybe his own master, so I trusted him too.  Up until I left the Order, I truly believed he had only the people of the galaxy at heart.”

Her hands shifted, taking Danres’ into them and giving them a squeeze.

“But that’s why  _ we’re  _ doing this,” she continued.  “Because we’re trying to actually help the people of the galaxy, not ourselves.”

Danres held her gaze a moment, before she ducked her head, feeling selfish for wanting to run away.  Just because the truth had been hard for her to hear, did not mean she could not keep fighting, especially when she was probably in one of the best positions to make the galaxy a better place.

Ahsoka squeezed her hands again, before she slipped away, going to Kreel’s side and murmuring something to him.  She was practically dragging the man off a moment later, leaving her alone with Tanbris. He shuffled awkwardly on his feet, mouth moving, trying to say something several times.

“Ailanis—”

“Ailee.”

Tanbris stuttered to a stop, staring at her in confusion.  She finally looked up at him, a sad smile coming to her face.

“My dad.  He used to call me ‘Ailee’.”

A heartbeat passed, before Tanbris relaxed, a small smile coming to his face.

“Gregory,” he replied.  “I, um… my given name. Is Gregory.”

~.oOOo.~

Vader was fairly certain that if his spine was not reinforced, it would have been snapped several times over by now.  A faint groan escaped from him after the last hit against the walls, having attempted to strangle the rancor, only to get swatted for his trouble.  He had not even been able to squeeze its throat; apparently it’s thorax was reinforced, because of course Voidgazer thought of that. Nothing was slowing it down, not a strike with his lightsaber nor the use of the Force had been enough.

“Impressive,” he growled under his breath.  “You’ve created a mindless beast.”

The rancor charged for him, and Vader rose to his feet, striking out at the creature’s mid-section.  As with all the other attacks, it did not even phase it, and he got smacked against the wall once again.

“I disagree, Lord Vader,” Voidgazer’s voice filtered into the room.  “The cyberanimate system is beautiful; a direct bridge to the rancor’s brain that permits a complete circumvention of weakness.”

Direct bridge to the brain… Vader glanced back at where the woman was hiding, before he rose to his knees.  He closed his eyes, drawing on the Force to guide his aim as he reared back, before throwing his lightsaber.  The weapon shot up, through the rancor’s gaping maw as it rushed for him. The blade pierced through the soft flesh of the roof of its mouth, jutting through the space between its cybernetic eyes.  It tumbled to the ground with a resounding thud as Vader called his lightsaber back, and the rancor let out a weak sounding noise a moment later as it was finally able to feel the pain it was in.

“You… you severed the link…” Voidgazer uttered, stunned, as he approached the creature, gently placing a hand on its head.  He was out of practice offering comfort through the Force to others, but the creature seemed to get the idea. It closed its eyes as Vader lifted his lightsaber again, bringing it down through the creature’s brain, mercifully killing it.

“You understand much, Tulon Voidgazer,” he growled out, reaching out with a hand, ripping the door that separated them off its track.  “But not the Force.”

Voidgazer scoffed as she approached, her droid’s crowding around her protectively.

“I do not believe in your religion, Vader,” she replied dismissively.  “Your so called ‘Force’, like anything sentients are capable of, has a scientific explanation.  My only interest is in proving it.”

“What do you mean?” Vader demanded, narrowing his eyes behind his mask.  He was under the impression they all did not care about the Force; Cylo himself had made a point of being dismissive of it.

Voidgazer smirked humorlessly.  “I would have thought you would have realized your master promised your apprentice to me should I have succeeded in his game.”

Of course he did.  Vader could not even muster the energy to pretend to be surprised by this.

“The only enjoyable part of trying to engineer the ‘Force’ would have been the dissection,” she continued, her droids coming about, blaster cannons aimed at him.  “I suppose a corpse instead of a healthy specimen will have to do.”

All of the droids fired on him at once, leaving Vader on the defensive.  Everything was hurting more than it usually did, and he used the adrenaline rush from the pain to feed into his connection to the Force, allowing him to move faster than he ever had before to keep ahead of her assault.  He struck out at her, trying to bring her to heel, but the droids created a particle barrier, strong enough to keep his lightsaber from breaking through, before firing on him again, forcing him back.

“You have to admire my system, Lord Vader,” Voidgazer began, a touch of pride in her voice.  “It is the perfect defense.”

A good defense was the perfect offense.  Vader smirked under his mask, reaching through the Force and grabbing hold of one of her droids.  It fought against him, and for a moment he thought it would break free. It only fueled his determination, forcing the machine to point at her as it fired.

The moment Voidgazer dropped, so too did her droids,leaving her prone on the ground.  She rolled over onto her back, letting out a pained laugh as blood began to trickle from her mouth.

“My death does not matter,” she rasped out.  “While Tagge had you all running about the galaxy,  _ I _ was working on his precious ship.”

A smirk touched her lips.

“To his credit, I  _ did  _ make the necessary modifications to the  _ Executor _ ’s weapon systems, but I’m sure they’re enjoying my  _ other  _ additions as we speak.”

Which could mean any number of things; Vader did not even want to know what condition the ship would be in when he got to it.  He raised his lightsaber, only to get another laugh out of her in response.

“You can’t kill me,” she whispered.  “My  _ work  _ will live on—”

Vader cut her off, bringing his lightsaber down, through the center of her eye prosthetic, killing her instantly.

~.oOOo.~

Cylo-V clasped his hands behind his back, gazing out of the viewport of his transport pod.  His systems had registered Voidgazer’s passing — a shame, really, but an acceptable loss for his end goal.  For she had thoroughly distracted Vader, allowing Morit and himself to escape his flagship, as well as their troops.  It would give them the chance to be rid of the dark lord, and a pleased smile came to his face as the whale ship rammed itself into the support beam holding the  _ Executor  _ in place, exploding and knocking the Imperial dreadnaught off its dock.

Mere minutes later, he was striding onto the main bridge of the massive ship, carelessly stepping on Tagge’s unconscious body as he did so.  His troops took control of the pit, pushing aside bodies before making use of Voidgazer’s weapon improvements to strike out at pursuing Imperial troops.  Ion charges dropped from the ship, setting off and making just about everything around them electronically dead.

“Excellent work, Doctor Voidgazer,” he murmured, pleased.  He glanced over to Morit, sparing him a smile, before he turned back to the main viewport, watching as the ship moved away from the last of the construction docks.

“Set course for—”

Cylo-V cut himself off as the ship suddenly stopped dead, the lights around them immediately snapping off as the entire bridge shuddered.

“What happened?” Cylo-V demanded, and Morit went for a nearby console as emergency lights kicked in.

“The engines are dead.”

Cylo-V let out an incredulous noise, going over to the computer to check what Morit was looking at.  He had just grabbed the screen, when a familiar voice flooded over the coms.

“Vader to bridge.  You have lost control of the engines.  You will not be escaping. I am coming for you.”

Cylo-V’s fists curled in irritation, and he very nearly put one through the computer screen.

“That man has the tenacity of a cockroach…” he muttered.

“Then let me smash him under my heel!” Morit demanded.  “This is what you’ve spent my whole life crafting me for.  I—”

Cylo-V raised a hand, cutting him off.

“He will come here; we must use that,” he replied.  “Divide the troops; they will track him down. You will travel the surface of the  _ Executor;  _ reroute the engines.”

Morit did not look pleased, but he bowed, before snapping around on his heel, leaving Cylo-V alone on the bridge.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra whimpered as the sound of metal grinding together pierced through her head, rousing her back to consciousness.  It took her a moment to realize it was BT talking, and she blinked her eyes open, finding herself facing Triple Zero’s feet.  She let out another groan, rubbing at her face.

“Triple Zero…?” she asked.  “What happened…?”

The droid tilted his head, seeming amused.

“A gas happened, Mistress Aphra,” he answered.  “More specifically, a human-targeted neurotoxin; highly permeable across safety filters.  I must admit a certain spark of professional jealousy.”

A smile trembled onto Aphra’s face, before she struggled up to her feet.  She very nearly fell over again, only to get caught by a pair of fuzzy arms.  She looked up in surprise, before she let out a relieved noise.

_ “Santy;  _ you got my message.”

She wavered back to her feet as Black Krrsantan let out a worried sounding woof, his big hand pressed against her back.

“Oh don’t fret,” Triple Zero replied.  “The antidote I administered  _ was  _ the correct dosage.  It’s not  _ my  _ fault such things that heal the human body work slower than that which harms it.”

Aphra stared at the droid as BT let out an annoyed noise, rocking slightly on his stubby legs.  She did not think the murder droid would even keep antidotes, much less administer them.

“I… thank you, Triple Zero.”

Triple Zero’s red photoreceptors snapped off and on, like he was blinking at her, as BT let out a beep like a huff, swiveling his head around.

“Quite right, Beetee,” he agreed with the blastomech.   _ “Someone  _ needs to maintain us.”

An amused smile tugged at the corner of Aphra’s mouth, before the gravity of the situation snapped her back to the moment.  She stepped away from Santy, carefully taking a few cautious steps to make sure she could maintain her balance, before she looked back at them.

“We’ve gotta find the boss,” she said.  “He should be here if everything is falling apart like this.”

She… hoped, at least; and if he was here,  _ where  _ was he?  She had no idea how much time had passed, and could not even begin to guess what could have happened while she was out.  She was about to say they should move, she caught the sound of feet marching down the hall, and Santy was scooping her up in his arms, moving her over to a place where she would not immediately be seen.  She listened as a voice came in over a comlink, trying to make a report, before dissolving into screaming, leaving whomever was answering the call to shout for the other person to respond.

She should have known, really; best way to find Vader was to follow the screams.

“Let’s follow them; we should find him that way,” she said, only to let out a groan a moment later as Santy started to carry her off.  “Hey, c’mon, you big fuzzball. I can walk! Slowly…”

Krrsantan let out a doubtful warble, but set her down regardless.  He brayed for her to keep up, before starting off, the droids just behind him with Aphra bringing up the rear.

It seemed like the corridors of all Star Destroyers were pretty much the same, and Aphra was getting lost in all the twists and turns.  Fortunately, Santy had his nose to guide him as he barrelled down the corridors, passing an ornate door that looked out of place in all the industrial grey around them, and continuing on without giving it much thought.  Aphra stopped outside of it, however, staring up at the intricate engravings. She bet it was so fancy because it was reserved for the Emperor when he was present. He was probably still locked down in there, protected by his personal guard.  It would not take much for her to break in there; she could get in and talk to the Almighty Wrinkle directly, tattle on everything Vader had been doing. If she was not killed immediately, she would probably be safe, maybe even rewarded.

She could…

“Mistress Aphra?”

She… she could…

A loud wookiee snarl drew her attention away, like she was waking up from a doze.  She stumbled away from the door, hurrying after the three of them.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!  Don’t get your fur in a knot, Santy.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke could feel his heart drumming in his chest, anticipation making the cramped space feel even tighter than it was.  He was grateful his father’s ship was life support equipped, as he was fairly certain that a flight helmet would have made it worse.  As it was, the only thing that saved him from being completely mashed against DV was the fact the x1 Advanced was designed with his father’s size in mind.  As long as he did not have to yank back sharply on the controls, he would not bang into the little guy.

Which of course, he had to do as soon as he emerged from hyperspace.

He flinched as his right elbow clanged loudly against DV’s barrel torso, steering the ship around a piece of floating debris.  Once he was sure he was not going to impact on anything, he glanced back at the astrodroid.

“Are you okay?” he asked, only to get a muttered, grumbling beep about how he could not understand how Rebel droids put up with flying with their humans.  Luke fought against a laugh, though all humor died as he turned back to focus on the space before him.

In addition to Cylo’s whale ships — which were swimming around the  _ Executor  _ and had not even noticed him yet — there were several Imperial ships floating listlessly about, TIE fighters and work ships both.  It took Luke a moment to realize they had all been hit by the same ion burst that had disabled the  _ Devastator,  _ though the true horror of it did not register until he saw a pilot in one of the TIEs.  Where emergency systems on the Star Destroyer had kicked in, keeping life support active, the pilots of the ships here had not been so lucky.  Not only were their ships dead, but so was their life support, leaving them to slowly suffocate with no means of escape.

Luke shrank back in his seat, struggling against the fear that gripped his heart as memories of despairing over a similar situation bubbled to the surface of his mind.  He squeezed his eyes shut against the image of a flashing twenty percent warning, gripping at his right arm where flesh met metal. No, no… he was fine. He was  _ fine;  _ his father had saved him.  He had plenty of air. He was  _ fine…! _

DV’s low booping helped bring him back to the present, and he forced out a shaky breath.

“I… I’ll be okay,” he assured him, slowly unclenching his arm, finally taking back the controls.  “Just… keep talking, okay, Deevee?”

DV let out a positive sounding noise, telling him about how he and a maintenance droid on the  _ Devastator  _ nearly set a utility closet on fire by accident once.  The ridiculous story was the noise he needed; he focused on each beep and boop, letting his hands do the flying toward the  _ Executor,  _ docking in the first bay he saw.

Luke let out a relieved noise as he passed through the magnetic field of the bay, gently setting his ship down next to another x1 Advanced.  His father was already on board, and he could sense him easily, a brightly burning supernova of rage as he doused himself in the heat of combat.  There was also…

His face scrunched up as he realized what that vast, black blot of darkness was.  The Emperor.  _ Great. _

He shook his head, deciding he was not going to deal with  _ that  _ for now.  The  _ Executor  _ was dark, though he suspected for a different reason than an ion blast.  The dim light of Kuat outside was enough for him to see by, and he could make out a figure, geared up for a space walk, approaching his ship.

Morit.

Luke grimaced, finally popping the hatch and pulling himself out of the ship.  Morit paused when he realized it was him, a slow smile working its way onto his face as he unhooked his lightsaber.

“Well, well; looks like the puppy came barking for his master,” he sneered up at Luke.  He did not rise to the taunt, instead removing his — his father’s — lightsaber from his belt and activating it.  Morit let out an amused noise, shaking his head. “You couldn’t stand up to me or my sister before; what makes you think you can now?”

Luke allowed a humorless smirk to touch his lips.  “What makes you think I was  _ trying  _ before?”

He got the distinct pleasure of seeing a worried look cross Morit’s face, before he leapt from the top of his fighter.  His cloak swept out around him in such a dramatic flair, he was certain his father would be proud.

~.oOOo.~

Cylo’s forces, try as they might, had hardly been a threat to Vader.  It was clear the mad doctor was only using them as fodder, buying him  _ time,  _ though for what, he was not sure.  Whatever it was, it was not immediately obvious as he strode onto the bridge, glaring daggers at the man through his mask.  If he was alarmed by the promise of death that rolled off his very being, Cylo was not showing it, standing in the light of the stars filtering in from outside, with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Lord Vader,” he greeted him amicably, bringing his arms up to show he was clutching a remote in one hand.

It was almost laughable if he thought he could keep throwing his abominations at him and hope for a different result.

“Your machines are insufficient, Cylo,” he near growled, lightsaber blazing as he stalked toward him.

Cylo, however, merely shrugged.

“You would be correct.  Especially my twenty-year old machines.”

Vader heard a  _ click  _ as Cylo pressed the button on the remote… and everything just  _ stopped. _

His limbs were the first to stop functioning, as suddenly everything that was his very being exploded in unfathomable pain.  The kouhunin neurotoxin that was used to keep the edge off the constant agony his body was in had stopped dispensing, making his vision go white around the edges, not helped by the fact his mask’s optics shut off.  He thought he could hear a rushing sound fill his auditory processing, but no, it had just turned off, leaving his damaged ears struggling to process sound in the enclosure of his mask. He knew Cylo was walking around him, gloating, but he could just barely hear him over the uncomfortable  _ noise  _ in his head.

It was so much worse than that, though; he could  _ feel  _ the lack of movement within his central implant cluster.  There was no hum of an artificial heart, pumping and filtering his blood in a way that his now useless live organ could not.  Cold settled quickly over his body as the thermal control system failed. His other systems shut down one by one as well, until nothing moved…

Nothing  _ breathed. _

“I often wondered…” Cylo’s voice said somewhere by him, sounding far off and dim.  “Was the thing that rose from our operating table a machine or a man?”

Vader fell to his knees with a thud he could barely hear or feel, vaguely aware of a faint buzz along the implant central connection cable within himself, before his neural sensors shut off.


	32. Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small, vague spoiler warning for Vader #25; Vader's Fortress #7 is in this chapter... sort of? I'm not sure; the Dark Side likes to mess with him, but I always liked this theory, so I'm running with it.

Maul would never admit out loud that it was good to have Leia back, but his gratitude probably showed, seeing as he had yet to leave her side.  He was not the only one, at least; both Biggs and Wedge had yet to shut up, and Solo… well, the smuggler was trying to do what he usually did, never mind anyone with sense could tell he wanted to grab her up and not let go.  Leia, for her part, was being patient with all of them, so grateful to be back that she was not about to stop any of them.

As the excited rambling went on, however, he noticed her paling, a distant look in her eyes as if she were picking up on something far away.  Maul started to sense it too, the feeling of a supernova dying, just as Leia clutched at her chest. Her knees buckled, and Solo snapped out to grab her before she hit the floor, laying her down gently.

“Leia!” he shouted, panic on his face as she started hyperventilating, struggling for air.  Maul shoved the other two pilots out of the way, bending down carefully and reaching for her hand.  She clutched at him desperately, fear in her eyes as she looked up at him, though she did not really seem to  _ see  _ him.

“F...father…!” she whimpered, and Maul glanced up at Solo, exchanging a worried look.

~.oOOo.~

The time on the island had not been focused solely on survival; Luke and Leia had time to train as well.  It was training from another viewpoint that he had sorely needed; their father was a wealth of “dark” knowledge, but if he wanted to maintain a middle ground in the Force, he needed to understand the “light” side of it as well.  Leia had been more than happy to show him… and also help him improve his lightsaber form. She had said he was a natural after a few sessions, but he knew the extra training had helped, especially with how Morit was struggling to keep up with him.

At least he was, until a sudden,  _ extreme  _ loss filled his consciousness.

Luke had to force himself away, breathing hard as he clutched at his chest.  Something was not right; something was  _ very wrong,  _ and he reached out, trying to find his father and…

...and  _ nothing. _

“Father…?” he whimpered, struggling against the pain that was steadily filling him.  No… no, this could not be happening. He was not  _ ready— _

“‘Father’?”

Morit’s voice brought Luke back to the present, and he focused on him as a slow, cruel smirk worked its way onto his face.

“That walking corpse is your  _ father?”  _ he asked, before erupting in laughter.  “How does  _ that  _ even work?  Your mother had to have been  _ desperate  _ to—”

Morit did not get a chance to finish that thought as the temperature in the room suddenly  _ dropped.   _ Rage overtook Luke so fast, he did not have the chance to sort through what he wanted from his emotions.  The answer was clear anyway; this pathetic  _ weakling  _ dared to mock his family, was part of the reason his father suffered.

He had to die.

Luke lashed out in a cold blooded frenzy, forcing Morit immediately on the defensive.  The Force hummed around him, dark and oppressive, bearing down on the other man with the same strength as each blow of his lightsaber.  One particularly violent strike knocked Morit’s blade out of the way, allowing him to loop around, cutting off the hand holding it. As he screamed in pain, Luke used the Force to call Morit’s lightsaber to his hand, activating it and bringing it around to cut off his other arm at the elbow.

Luke stood over him as Morit fell to his knees, power humming around him.  It made him feel unstoppable; he could take on Cylo like this, take out the  _ Emperor  _ like this, take the galaxy for himself like he was  _ meant  _ to, and…

And then what?

The thought of what came next brought Luke’s thoughts to a stuttering halt, the oppressive weight of the Force lifting from the room.  It left him feeling horrified and ashamed; again, he almost lost control of himself again, and he knew there was no one whispering dark promises in his ear this time.  He needed to do better; he needed better control.

“What are you waiting for?” Morit hissed, bringing his thoughts back to him.  Oh, right; he was still alive. “Just kill me already.”

Luke regarded him coolly for a long moment.  He really  _ should  _ kill him; Morit was a threat, even without his sister around.  Still…

Finally, he extinguished both lightsabers, clipping them to his belt.

“I don’t kill unarmed opponents,” he replied casually, turning his back to Morit as an annoyed beep came from his ship.  He called on the Force again, helping DV out, and the two of them were heading out of the bay as Morit pulled himself together enough to let out an enraged scream.

~.oOOo.~

_ His throat was burning. _

Everything  _ was burning; his skin, his hair, but he especially could feel his throat and lungs burning.  That did not keep him from trying to breathe through it all, taking in more of the deadly gases and heat thrown off by the lava around him, never mind it only served to burn his throat and lungs even more.  He was not about to let all the burning keep him down either, his remaining limb clawing uselessly at the shore of the lava flow as he fought to pull himself toward the other person there with him. _

_ “I  _ hate  _ you!” _

_ The words burned out of his mouth, the venom flowing from them like the lava around them.  He glared up at the object of his hate, the person responsible for all of this. Any other time he had this dream, it was always his former master standing there as he had stood there in real life, sad and broken and muttering platitudes of an emotion Jedi would never understand. _

_ This time, it was a different master. _

_ Vader snarled as his body burned, flames clawing at the back of his neck as he glared up at Palpatine.  The old corpse stood there, his face half hidden in the hood of his robe with his hands clasped before him.  His expression was hard for him to see with all the  _ fire  _ and  _ burning,  _ but he could see his mouth, his lips pursed in disapproval. _

_ “Your hate makes you powerful, my son,” he sneered in response, “but it doesn’t keep you from your many failures.” _

_ Vader struggled to stand on legs that did not exit,  _ screaming  _ in utter agony. _

“You  _ did this to me!” he howled.   _ “You  _ made this happen!  You should have just let me die!” _

_ The Emperor’s mouth twisted into an evil,  _ gleeful  _ sneer, a low, bone chilling chuckle escaping from him. _

_ “I did make you,” he hissed.  “Every part of you, from the moment you came into being.  Years of patiently cultivating you into the perfect apprentice, the perfect  _ Chosen One,  _ all undone by the strike of a mere lightsaber.” _

_ Despite the heat and the flames, Vader suddenly felt cold, an indescribably dread clawing up his spine. _

_ “Perhaps my  _ grandchildren _ will fair better.” _

_ Vader screamed, fingers clawing uselessly at the ground.  No, no, no, no; he could not… there was no way he could know about her.  Not Leia too; he would never let him have her…! _

_ There was a sudden  _ push  _ against his battered and mangled body, and the burning engulfed him as he was swallowed by the lava.  He was left adrift, discarded as a failure, skin and bone were melting as everything fell into darkness, and… _

_ “Ani…” _

_ He felt pressure against his gloved hand, looking down to see he was chained to that hateful metal slab he rose from twenty years ago.  The fingers pressed against his were small, long and thin, the skin smooth and nails well manicured. He knew who they belonged to, but he refused to look; he already suffered one delusion brought by the Dark Side, he would not suffer another, especially one so cruel. _

_ “Ani… please,” her voice begged him softly… before it let out an almost terse sigh. _

_ “Vader.” _

_ He started at her voice calling him that, finally craning his head around to see her.  She was as he last saw her, wearing the same outfit, her hair done the same way, only she was not pregnant, the bottom of her shirt hanging loose about her midsection.  Her hand reached up to him then, fingers trailing along his mask, a heartbroken look coming to her face. _

_ “Oh Ani…” she murmured.  “What has he done to you?” _

_ Vader could only stare, not sure how to respond.  This was… odd; she was not behaving like a vision of her he would normally have.  She was almost… _

_ “Is this real?” _

_ Padmé Amadala’s warm smile filled his vision, and for a moment, he almost felt light as air, like the past twenty years never happened.  She was his light, his life again, and he moved to reach for her. The clink of chains reminded him that she was not really there… at least, not in the same sense he was.  It brought sadness to her face again as she looked down, placing her hands over his once more. _

_ “Break away from him, Vader,” she said softly.  “I know you can.” _

_ “I don’t know how.” _

_ She looked up at him again, the barest of smiles touching her lips. _

_ “Lord Vader, once Anakin Skywalker, still the most stubborn man in the galaxy, doesn’t know how to break away from the one man he hates the most?” _

_ It did sound ludicrous when she put it like that.  Vader looked down at her hands again, trying to twist his own around so he could hold her, even just that little bit. _

_ “You’re not alone, Ani,” Padmé continued.  “You never were, no matter what Palpatine made it seem like.  We were always at your side, we were always your family, just as you have people and family at your side now.” _

_ Yes… he did; as Trios had said, all things must be supported.  Without Aphra, Tanbris, and Danres, he doubted he would have made it this far.  And especially… _

_ A voice cried out from the dark then; twin voices screaming for him, trying to reach him… _

_ “You hear them, don’t you?” she asked softly.  “Go to them, Ani. Our children still need their father.” _

_ Their children… the proof he had loved with all his heart and soul once.  The proof that he was a man, despite the durasteel prison he was locked in; that he was still capable of love, because he  _ loved  _ his children.  There were not enough words to describe how much he loved his children, and nothing would ever stop him from loving them. _

_ He felt Padmé give his hand one last squeeze, before she returned to the Force, whispers of her gentle encouragement in his ear as he strained against the chains that bound him. _

_ He was Lord Vader, master of the Force.  No such chains would  _ ever  _ bind him again. _

~.oOOo.~

“Good to finally have an answer.”

Cylo-V rested a hand on Vader’s helmet, a pleased smirk coming to his face as the last light on the cyborg’s chestplate winked out.  The almighty Dark Lord of the Sith, brought down by the simple press of a button. He could not help but wonder how the man’s many enemies would react to the news; would it be jealousy, perhaps?  Anger that it had been so simple? Either one, it did not matter.

Darth Vader was dead.  That was the only thing that mattered.

“Cylo to all troops,” he announced over his communications network.  “Vader is no longer a threat. Continue to—”

He cut himself off as the air around him suddenly felt  _ heavy.   _ He frowned as the metal plates of the bridge seemed to tremble, before catching movement out of the corner of his eye.  The familiar hiss of a lightsaber coming to life had him jerking away, his human eye wide in shock as Vader  _ rose,  _ looming over him.

“How—?!”

He did not have time to get away; the hateful red blade was plunging into his chest.  The last thing Cylo-V got to hear was the rasp of a man barely able to talk, barely able to  _ live,  _ yet somehow, inexplicably, still alive.

“You underestimate the power of the Force.”

When Cylo-VI awoke mere moments later aboard one of his whale ships, it was in a near blind panic.  He had used up his last resource against Vader. There was nothing left, and he knew the Dark Lord’s revenge would be all consuming.

He  _ had  _ to escape.  There was no other option.

~.oOOo.~

Firmus Piett was not having a good week.

He had been called to Kuat on the orders of Grand General Tagge; apparently his skills in captaining the anti-pirate fleet around his homeworld of Axxila had gotten him noticed.  The transfer did not seem like something he would have been able to reject, and he had left his home with a heavy heart to be Captain aboard the newly built  _ Executor.   _ It was certainly an impressive ship, if a little unnecessarily  _ large.   _ He was fairly sure one could start to walk from one end to the other and not complete the trip in less than a week, and he had to sternly keep an eye on a map on his datapad while traversing the ship, dreading the thought of getting lost.

Problems with the ship itself aside, there was a…  _ slight  _ issue with the crew itself.  The pit team that answered to him was fine, all well meaning officers that knew how to do their job and do it well, but the men  _ he  _ answered to…  He would not speak ill of his commanding officers, it was not in his nature.  He would only say that neither Admiral Ozzel nor the Grand General himself would have lasted very long back home.

That was readily apparent when they found themselves under attack.  Ozzel, at least, was barking orders (while doing nothing himself), but Tagge looked just shy of panicking, trying to field questions to the Emperor himself.  The last thing Piett remembered was his ashen face as the Emperor said he was disappointed, before he had passed out.

He was slowly coming back to consciousness now, who knew how many hours later, very much aware that his body felt sluggish, like he was not in complete command of his faculties.  He could see at least, and hear, and the rasping, wheezing sound he woke up to was near bone chilling. Whomever they were, they sounded  _ gravely  _ injured, and Piett felt a chill run down his spine, wondering if he was hearing someone’s last moments and could do nothing to help them.

The sound of footsteps pounded onto the bridge, suddenly stopping short.

“Boss!” a woman’s voice shouted, and she ran past a moment later, crouching down just out of his view from where he was laying in the pit.  A wookiee braying followed soon after, but his focus was on the woman he could not see as she kept rambling.

“I-I’m so sorry, I tried to get to you as soon as I found it, but you were already gone, and then no one believed I was working with you, and then the gas, and—”

She cut herself off with a squeak, and a moment passed as the breathing slowly evened out.  It finally settled, but it was rather loud, clearly coming from a ventilator.

“It is all right, Aphra,” a deep voice replied.

The woman sunk back, enough for Piett to see her again, along with the black gloved hand that was resting on top of her head.  There was some fumbling, followed by a grunt and a loud  _ snap.   _ The woman tossed something dismissively over her shoulder, and Piett saw a broken circuit board and pieces of a remote hit the ground of the pit.

“There.  No one’s turning Vader off ever again.”

Vader?  That was  _ Darth Vader  _ up there?  What was a lord of the Empire — no, what was the Emperor’s right hand man doing associating with wookiees and a woman dressed like the pirates he used to hunt down?

There was the sound of feet pounding on the deck again, and silence hung over the bridge as Piett saw the woman turn, delighted surprise lighting up her face.  He could see Vader finally, standing up to his impressive height, before someone broke out into a run. Piett saw a young man, barely twenty, running toward them, before Vader ducked down to catch him, letting the boy bury his face in his armored shoulder as he stood back up, the boy’s feet dangling inches off the ground.

“I… I thought…” he whimpered against the dark lord’s shoulder.  “Father, I—”

Vader silenced him with a hand to the back of his head, while Piett felt like the floor opened up and sent him tumbling out into space.  This boy was Lord Vader’s  _ son?   _ Lord Vader had a  _ son?   _ This was too much; Piett was positive he was not supposed to know any of what he was seeing and hearing right now.  He ended up snapping his eyes closed, hoping the stiffness in his body would make it seem like he was still unconscious.

A stillness settled over the bridge, and Piett could hear the young man let out a faint noise.

“Cylo…” he muttered, before he could hear the sound of boots clacking on the deck as Vader no doubt set his son down.

“I sense it as well,” the dark lord rumbled.  “We will deal with him.”

“What about us, boss?” Aphra asked.  Silence answered her, and Piett could imagine that dark monolith regarding the woman as he considered.

“Ensure the medical droids are set to counteract the gas Voidgazer used,” he ordered.  “Then leave; we will reconvene at Mustafar.”

Aphra let out a sound of acknowledgement, and Piett could picture the woman snapping off a salute as he heard boots on the deck floor, leaving the bridge.  Silence followed, before a shuffling noise came from above him.

“Santy, you want to stick around?”

Piett barely understood Shyriiwook, but he got the impression the woof that answered her was something positive.  The woman let out a laugh, her voice starting to sound distant as she walked away.

“Hey, you know I’m good for it!  And so is Vader!” she exclaimed, before Piett heard the doors close behind her.  He almost relaxed, starting to feel a slight twitch in his fingers, only to freeze when he heard the sound of metal grinding together.

“Indeed, Beetee,” an electronic voice answered.  “I didn’t want to tell Master Vader the neurotoxin was likely starting to wear off by now.  Letting him and Master Luke babble in front of people that may be waking up was far more entertaining.”

That metal grinding sound came again, and Piett realized it was probably some astromech and protocol droid counterpart he had not seen before.

“I  _ do  _ like Master Luke,” the protocol droid answered tersely, his voice starting to fade as he shuffled away.  “That’s why I haven’t killed that Captain pretending to still be unconscious; I’m letting him do it.”

Piett felt his stomach hit the deck plates as the doors to the bridge closed again.  This was definitely proving to be an assignment that would be hazardous to his health.

~.oOOo.~

Luke was not entirely surprised to see Morit was gone by the time he and his father made it to the docking bay, along with a shuttle.  He was not sure how the disarmed man piloted it out, but something told him they would see him again, just not any time soon.

Now was not the time to dwell on it, however; they could not allow Cylo to escape.  Luke leapt to the top of his fighter, glancing across the way as his father did the same.  He was a little worried about him continuing to push himself, especially after coming so close to death.  As he met his gaze, however, Luke realized his father seemed… lighter, his movements more fluid, like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

His father nodded to him, silent assurance he would be fine, before he dropped down into his ship, and Luke followed suit a moment later.  The cockpit was much easier to navigate now that he was not crammed up against the controls, and it was not long before the two of them were launching out into space.

“Black One…” his father’s voice rumbled over the com, and Luke glanced down at his transponder, his face heating up as he realized it was still displaying and broadcasting his designation change.

“I…” he fumbled, embarrassment rolling off of him.  “I-I needed… the  _ Devastator…” _

He trailed off as he felt his father’s amusement, trembling in the Force like he was  _ laughing.   _ There was a pretty high chance no one had heard or felt him do that in  _ years. _

“On my wing, Black One,” his father ordered, his voice serious despite the humor he could still feel from him.  “Let us remind Cylo what it means to defy the Empire.”

A warm feeling Luke could not describe settled in the pit of his stomach, making a small smile creep up on his face.

“Copy that, Black Leader,” he acknowledged, guiding his ship over until he was flying alongside his father.

At first, it almost seemed as if their approach to the whale ships retreating from the  _ Executor  _ would go unnoticed.  That did not last for long, as laser fire soon erupted from the beasts.  Luke found himself leaning back in his seat, sinking himself into the Force and his connection with his father.  He reached a mental hand out to the dark, burning presence, holding on to him tight as the two of them flew in sync, easily avoiding the blasts aimed at them.

As one, they rounded one of the large beasts, knowing this was the one Cylo was on.  They fired on a durasteel plating on its side, opening up a hole big enough for a ship to fly through, before they wordlessly parted.  His father may have been able to survive in an area where air was rushing out into space long enough to get to a sealed room, but Luke did not have that luxury.

He raked blaster fire along the surface of the whale ship, locating a docking hatch.  His eyes fell closed, letting the Force take command of his actions as he reached out, forcing the hatch to open.  He could feel his hands moving, slipping the fighter inside the docking bay beyond before raking fire on the troops that were attempting to repel him.  By the time he opened his eyes again, there were not enough left to stop him from setting the ship down.

Luke was jumping out of the hatch in the next moment, lightsaber blazing as he fought back against what remained of Cylo’s troops after his assault.  They did not oppose him for long, not with how entrenched he was in the Force, and he was soon stalking through the halls of the ship, following the direction his father’s presence was heading as he continued to cut down troops that tried to stop him.

They reunited in a massive chamber, littered with computers and various metal and glass tubes.  All of the tubes were open, and it seemed as if that was done in haste as some kind of bubbly, white foam was left over in each pod, spilling out on the ground.  It soon became apparent what had been in the tubes, as first one, then two, then eight Cylos emerged from the darkness beyond, wielding a variety of weapons between them.

“You cannot defeat my immortal system, Vader!” they spoke as one.  “You will never be rid of me!”

“The only thing good about your system, Cylo, is the ability to kill you over and over again,” his father replied unkindly.  A faint twitch of a smirk came to Luke’s face at that, and he raised his lightsaber, tension coiling in the pit of his stomach, ready to spring into action.  He felt a faint brush of his father’s cloak as he also readied himself, standing back to back with him.

“Show me how you’ve grown, young one,” he requested softly, and Luke gripped his lightsaber, a determined look on his face.

“As you wish, my lord.”

They burst apart from each other, both taking on four Cylos each.  One was immediately felled by his father’s lightsaber, cruelly ripping the copy in half.  The next two were taken by Luke as he wove around the blaster fire coming from one, before stabbing it through the heart.  He ripped the lightsaber blade out of the copy’s body, momentum taking it through the neck of another, sending the head flying.  Another screamed as his father cut off its hands before plunging his lightsaber through its gut, while yet another was sent tumbling to the floor when Luke swept his blade low, cutting off its legs before swinging the lightsaber around and plunging it into the copy’s back.

The remaining two for Vader tried to team up, one laying down suppressive fire while the other tried to come at him with a vibrosword.  His father easily reflected the blasts, letting them tear through the one with the blade as he closed in on his last, reaching through the Force to grab it by the neck.  The copy dropped its blaster, clawing uselessly at its throat, before Vader closed in, his blood red blade ripping through the copy’s midsection.

Luke’s last, in the meanwhile, was attempting to bypass him entirely, trying to throw a vibrodagger at his father’s back.  He flung his right arm out in response, letting the dagger harmlessly hit the durasteel plating on his prosthetic instead, before he whipped himself around, pulling Morit’s lightsaber off his belt as he did so.  He ignited it before he threw it, the blade plunging through the center of the last Cylo’s face.

There was a moment where Luke held onto the tension from the fight, feeling his emotions swirling in an angry swarm, before he let out a breath, releasing all of it at once.  He felt his father’s eyes on him, quietly observing, before he heard him step forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. Luke turned his gaze up to him, the pride radiating off of him almost impossible to miss.

With a nod between them, they both proceeded forward, walking side by side, capes leaving a dark trail in their wake.  It was a short walk to the whale ship’s bridge, where one last Cylo stood, his face screwed up in and irritated sneer, though it was hard for Luke to focus on.

The last time he had been near one of Cylo’s ships, the pain the creature was in had made it hard to focus on anything else.  Here was no exception, though it was  _ especially  _ powerful in this room, drawing his gaze downward.  What he thought was a pattern on a gleaming floor at first glance proved to be a glass barrier, showing off the poor creature’s  _ brain.   _ He felt his heart ache for it, especially as he caught sight of the various electronics hooked up to it, separating parts of it while controlling others.  He had no doubt the entire shoal was linked together like this; it was the only reason he could see as to why the pain was so intense.

And it gave him a terrible idea.  It was not an elegant plan and definitely would not give the creatures any comfort, but it  _ would  _ give them death.

“You can’t kill me, Vader,” Cylo hissed, his focus entirely on the lord, ignoring Luke as he knelt down, pressing a hand against the glass as he reached out to the Force.  He felt his father’s curiosity, but he mostly kept his focus on Cylo as the mad scientist continued, “You may destroy my bodies, but I will live on, forever. My system is immortal, my  _ work  _ is immortal.  You will  _ never  _ destroy that!”

Luke stood back up, holding onto the Force with all the care of a child that caught a glow bug.  He focused on Cylo, though his gaze was distant.

“We don’t need to destroy you,” he said.  “You will fly into the sun.”

There was power in his voice, command and authority that one would expect from an individual with twice Luke’s experience.  It actually made Cylo take a step back, a worried look crossing his face, as if he were suddenly before the Emperor instead.  It was quickly replaced with irritation as the mad doctor let out an annoyed noise.

“Did you really think I would leave myself open to mind tricks, boy?” he demanded.

Luke tried to keep an impassive expression on his face, but the sense of his father realizing what he did, and the wonder and  _ pride  _ that followed, made it impossible not to smile.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

The whale ship suddenly shifted beneath their feet, others in the shoal following suit, and the burning mass of Kuat’s sun soon appeared in the viewport.  Cylo whirled around, human eye wide with terror, before he set himself on the controls, trying desperately to get the ship to change course. Luke ignored his futile attempts, turning to his father, resting a hand on his arm.

“Let’s go, father.”

Vader nodded as they turned, wrapping an arm around Luke’s shoulders as they abandoned Cylo to his inevitable demise.

~.oOOo.~

They had just left the  _ Executor  _ when Aphra saw the whale ships changing course for Kuat’s sun.  Instead of heading away, she looped around the Super Star Destroyer, watching in open mouthed wonder as one after the other turned into burning hot streaks, before being swallowed by the fiery giant entirely.  Two TIE fighters shot out of the last one before it was consumed as well, and Aphra could not help but let out an excited woop, throwing her hands up.

“Good job, boss!” she squeaked happily, before she flopped properly into her seat, grabbing for the  _ Ark Angel _ ’s controls.  “All right, Santy, let’s get out of here.  See you at Mustafar.”

The wookiee let out a positive growl, his ship disappearing into hyperspace.  Aphra hesitated a moment, watching as the TIE fighters returned to the  _ Executor.   _ She still did not know why she was sticking around, but… after all of this, she at least had an idea.

She pulled back the lever for hyperspace, hoping the future would finally give her a definite answer.


	33. Only the Beginning

The future was not proceeding as he had foreseen.

If there was one singular thing that Sheev Palpatine prided himself on, it was his ability to see and manipulate the future.  Such power had always served him well in the past; it was what kept him one step ahead of the Jedi, the Republic, even his own master.  Now, however… events had  _ shifted,  _ and the future refused to allow him to peer through it.  His vision was clouded, and much of it was centered around the young man kneeling beside his father before him.

He knew that another was supposed to be here, explaining to him in great detail Vader’s actions these last few months.  Yet instead he was suffering the report directly from his unruly apprentice, knowing very well he was not getting the full story.  For the moment, it did not matter; Cylo was dealt with, and Vader was being loyal… for now. Time would only tell how long that would last.

A pleased smile came to his face as Vader finished his report, and he leaned back in his seat.

“Exemplary work as always, Lord Vader,” he said, absently waving a hand.  “The  _ Executor,  _ and command of our forces, are yours.  I trust you will have no issue with informing General Tagge of his demotion.”

“No, my master,” Vader replied, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, emphasized by the faint smile coming to his son’s face.  Palpatine waved a hand dismissively again, and the two rose, turning to leave.

“Young Skywalker,” he spoke up, a smile coming to his face as the young man froze.  “Stay.”

They both stopped, with Vader looking like he was going to grab the boy and walk off despite his order.  The young man looked up at his father, exchanging silent assurances, before he turned back toward his dais.  Vader hesitated, before he turned and left, the door snapping shut behind him.

“Come, young one,” Palpatine urged, motioning for the boy to come closer.

He hesitated, for a moment looking like he would stay where he was, but his feet started moving forward, stopping a respectful distance away from his chair.  Palpatine smiled kindly at him, though in reality he was reveling in the boy’s presence. He was  _ powerful, _ even with his continued attempts to hide just how strong he was.  There was no doubt in his mind that he would be stronger than his father; all he needed was the right  _ push. _

“You’ve grown strong, young one,” he said, adopting a grandfatherly tone.  “Your father must be proud.”

The boy inclined his head slightly, surprise registering briefly on his face.  Clearly, he had expected him to keep up his little game face to face. It took him a moment to collect himself, clasping his hands before him.

“I believe he is, Excellency,” he finally answered.  “I still have much to learn, however.”

“Indeed,” Palpatine agreed.  “Such knowledge does not come easy.”

He let out an amused noise, before rising from his seat, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so.  The boy took a step back, though it was less out of fear and more out of respect for his space. Palpatine waved the courtesy off, motioning for him to follow him to the massive viewport that looked out over the shipyards.  There was a hesitance in the boy’s steps as he followed him, the only visible sign that his confidence was wavering. The Force painted a clearer picture of how he was really feeling: stressed, uneasy, tense. The boy may have been fogging his vision, but he was an open book before him.  So much like his father; he knew exactly how to handle him.

“Allow me to offer you a bit of wisdom, young one,” he began.  “There is a prophecy, one that was fulfilled recently.”

It was easy to tell he immediately had the boy’s attention, even though he stubbornly kept his gaze forward.

“This was a prophecy the Jedi treasured, especially in the later half of the Clone Wars,” he continued, feeling nostalgic, reveling in the undivided attention.  “It spoke of a Chosen One, one that would bring balance to the Force. He would be born of pure Force, and more powerful than any Jedi in history. Such a being was born… oh, about forty years ago, on Tatooine.”

The boy did not bother to hide his surprise, his head snapping toward him.  Palpatine did not bother to meet his gaze, the barest of smiles touching his face.  He had him; all too easy.

“The Jedi believed the Chosen would be their savior.  In their arrogance, they did not understand what that would mean for them, nor did they  _ think  _ how such a surgence in the Force could come about.”

He could feel the boy’s eyes on him, questioning, confused… and the truth of what he was implying sunk in; he had surprising insight for one so young.  It seemed he would inherit powers his father had not; he just needed training to put those skills to proper use.

“Yes, my child,” he murmured softly, sensing it as the boy recoiled, turning his gaze back out to space.  “You and your father are  _ mine.” _

He turned to face the boy, watching him as he pressed his hands together, his mind racing with thoughts moving too fast for Palpatine to follow.  It did not matter what he was thinking, however; like his father before him, the desperate need for family was a  _ clear  _ weakness.

“Now you understand why my game must continue,” he continued, raising a hand to gently press against his arm.  He could feel the boy tremble under his touch, the truth a weight he was struggling against. “I must ensure those that will inherit the Empire after I’ve gone will have the strength of character to continue what I’ve started.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in, before adding: “Especially you.”

The boy stilled, and somehow he kept his expression passive as he turned to face him again.  A grandfatherly smile came to Palpatine’s face as he shifted his hand up, fingers brushing against the young man’s cheek.

_ “Look  _ at you,” he murmured, pride in his voice.  “All the strength of your father, tempered by your mother’s spirit.  You have the makings of a brilliant leader within you. You need only discard that which makes you  _ weak,  _ and rise against those that stand in your way.”

His meaning was clear: the boy needed to discard his needless attachment to his father.  He knew the boy had the ambition, the  _ drive;  _ if he moved beyond his feelings for his father, he would be a force to be reckoned with, and no one in the galaxy would be able to stop him.  The path forward was clear; after all, Vader was a  _ very  _ ill man, and an unfortunate escalation of his condition would be easy to bring about.  While the boy was mourning, he would be certain to be there, to step in as his only living relative.  The future began to shape itself again, and he could see the galaxy bending to his will once again…

Something  _ shifted  _ in the Force, and his image of what could come disappeared from his sight.  The young man closed his eyes, before taking a step backwards, pulling himself out of his reach.

“Forgive me, Excellency,” he began, “but I am a pilot for the Empire.  My duty is to the people of the galaxy, and that leaves little time for myself, not to mention political games.”

He paused, sparing Palpatine a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Perhaps when I am older and wiser, I will be able to properly entertain you.”

He bowed to him before turning, walking out of the room without being dismissed.  Palpatine allowed it, pursing his lips at the sheer audacity that had been thrown in his face.   _ That  _ had certainly reminded him of someone, and he gripped at his cane, digging his nails into the wood.

“Padmé’s son  _ indeed,”  _ he hissed.

~.oOOo.~

Danres collapsed against the wall, exhaustion burying deep in her bones as she ran a hand over her face.  She had gone through several blaster packs alone in the effort to repel the boarders, not to mention how many the troops they picked up to lead through the ship went through.  They had not lost anyone, though; the worst injury between all of them was a bolt that grazed Tanbris’ shoulder.

She pulled herself off of the wall after a moment, shambling over to where he had slumped against the opposite wall.  A tired sigh escaped from her as she flopped down beside him, checking the bandage they had hastily wrapped around his wound, before leaning against his other side.

“That vacation time sounds amazing right now,” she murmured.

He let out an amused noise.  “‘Shore leave’,” he corrected, shifting a bit so she could rest more comfortably against him.

“Where will we go?” she murmured.

“Well,” he began, “Imperial regulations dictate specific places where we can go.  Though I could try talking to the admiral or Lord Vader about sneaking off to somewhere else.”

Danres laughed at that, resting her head heavily against his good shoulder.

“Just as long as I don’t have any wanted posters there.”

He spared her a soft smile, hesitantly reaching for her hand.  Their fingers threaded together, and Danres could not help but return the smile, shyly tucking her hair behind an ear.

“You’re going to stay?” he asked softly.  “You wont leave?”

Danres paused, feeling her heart do an odd flip in her chest.  She shifted, turning slightly so she could look at him without moving too far away from him.  Their noses brushed against each other as a result, and she could feel a faint warmth coming to her face… before she felt something kick at her foot.  She jumped away from Tanbris at that, staring up at her attacker, offended.

“No overt displays of affection in public, Ensign,” Kreel grumbled at her, looking even paler than he had when he first showed up.  Danres pursed her lips at him, annoyed.

“Don’t you have a med bay to go back to?” she asked.

“Someone needs to make sure you’re following regulations.”

Tanbris fixed him with a bland look at Danres pursed her lips, annoyance radiating off of her.  She reached up, plucking Tanbris’ cap off his head, waving it at the trooper.

“Regulate this, Sergeant.”

She held the cap up, hiding their faces from view as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.  Tanbris jumped slightly at that, eyes widening as his face turned bright red. Danres pulled away quickly, immediately feeling bad for springing it on him, but his hand came up, pressing gently against the back of her neck. He pulled her in for another kiss, and she dimly heard Kreel let out a scoff as she forgot about the cap, draping her arms over Tanbris’ shoulders instead.

~.oOOo.~

Ahsoka let out a breath as she tapped away at the com station Montferrat allowed her to use, worried that her old contact codes would not work anymore.  Really, they  _ should not  _ work; she had to have been presumed dead since confronting Vader at Malachor two years ago.  The smart thing to do would be to kill her com codes, but the positive beep as she connected proved otherwise.  Maybe someone hoped she survived, and her mind immediately went to Hera as she sent back a sound code in return, a sad smile on her face.

“Where does the light shine for you?” a masked, bored sounding voice asked finally, and Ahsoka raised an amused eyebrow.

“Over the barren fields of Raada,” she answered.  The static sound that answered her code phrase was odd, and led her to believe she caught the poor man on the other end off guard.

“S-say that again?”

“Over the barren fields of Raada,” she repeated calmly.  There was a long stretch of silence from the other end, and she could imagine a back and forth going between several alliance officials, before a different voice came on, masked just as the first was.

“Welcome back, Fulcrum,” the person said.  “It’s been a few years since we’ve heard from you.”

Ahsoka smiled softly.  “Forgive my late report; my last mission did not exactly go as planned.  However, I do have information to provide about my current position within the Empire, as well as recruits I’ve gathered.”

“We will need to ensure you haven’t been compromised before we consider any recruits you may have found,” came the stiff reply.  Ahsoka let out a soft breath, expecting as much.

“I will meet where you wish,” she answered.  “But I can assure you that I have not been compromised, and those that are willing to work with us  _ cannot  _ be ignored.”

~.oOOo.~

Piett was trying very hard to ignore the words that were being exchanged down in the pit, but it was equally hard not to look.  Darth Vader was an imposing figure normally; seeing him  _ loom  _ over the former Grand General was a different level of terrifying.  He peered over on occasion, watching Tagge ramble uselessly in an effort to preserve his life.  It was not until he heard the door to the bridge open that his attention was drawn away to other matters.

That boy — Lord Vader’s son — entered and paused at the door, a strange, distant look coming to his face.  Hesitantly, he stepped forward, his eyes fixated on the massive viewport at the head of the room. Piett followed him with his eyes, hesitation and trepidation clawing at his spine, the droid’s words from before echoing in his mind.  He was not sure what to do; if he was anything like his father, then he really was not willing to experience the same terror that Tagge was going through right now. At the same time… it was hard to imagine, considering how relieved the boy had been to see his father in one piece.

As if picking up his thoughts, the boy’s attention snapped to him, and Piett found himself stiffening.  At least at first; a moment later, a small smile came to his face, and the captain felt at ease, carefully coming to stand at the boy’s side as he turned his attention back to the viewport.

“Is this your first week here, Captain?” he asked softly.

“Yes, sir,” Piett replied, fighting against a flinch as the sound of someone choking came from behind them.  The boy let out a breath, bowing his head slightly, before he glanced slightly in the direction of the noise.

“...my father is a strict, but fair leader,” he murmured softly.  “He doesn’t expect anyone to do anything he wouldn’t do himself.”

The sickening sound of bones crunching came from down in the pit, but Piett’s focus was stuck on the boy.  He… knew? And he was still alive? He finally glanced back as he heard Admiral Ozzel damn near whimpering to Vader, half expecting him to be strangled next.  The dark lord turned from him, however, started toward them.

“If you keep that in mind, Captain, you’ll go far under his command,” the boy added, and Piett turned to see him offering him another soft smile.  It was hard to feel uneasy in the face of that smile, and he found himself relaxing, even as Vader approached them.

“I will keep that in mind, sir,” he replied, nodding before turning and offering Lord Vader a bow.  The lord acknowledged him with a nod, going to stand by his son’s side as Piett made his retreat. He did glance back once, though; in time to see the boy discreetly taking his father’s hand.

~.oOOo.~

Leia was already coming to the conclusion that being part of this family was going to be a chore, despite how much she had come to care for and respect Luke after their time together.

The unsettling feeling of their father coming so close to death had left her feeling numb for hours.  She knew he was fine now, if only because of the dark flare of rage that accompanied the resurgence of his supernova presence, but she had been… scared, scared to the point that she almost threw herself into her X-wing and flew to where he was.  What was more terrifying than that was how much she  _ cared,  _ how much she wanted him to live, how relieved she was when he came back.  She  _ should not  _ care; the man had tortured her, committed countless atrocities in the Emperor’s name…

And yet…

Leia let out a breath as she leaned against the front landing strut of her fighter, staring out into the vastness of space beyond the docking bay.  Her thoughts were running around unchecked and she knew it; she half expected Maul to show up any second and tell her to shut up or drag her into a knock down, drag out fight until she could sort herself out.

The main problem was, she knew how she really felt, despite how hard it was for her to admit.  The truth was, she had come to care for the man through Luke, the memory of his stories of how he cared for him over the years bringing a small smile to her face.  He truly, unquestionably loved their father, long before he knew for certain they were related. He had been able to see what Vader had done and what Vader was, and found forgiveness in his heart, and likely, pulled him into being the man that stood behind her and ordered Tarkin to cease fire against Alderaan.  That  _ mattered,  _ even if it had been a futile gesture.

She knew she could not forgive him, not like Luke could; she had come to that conclusion not long after Dathomir.  Despite that, she  _ did  _ know that she could move on, maybe even work with him in the future.  All she needed was time, even if it was in short supply in the Alliance.

“Leia?”

She roused from her thoughts at the familiar voice, pulling herself off of the landing strut and sparing Hera a small smile.  The other woman hesitated a moment, her uncertainty stemming from worry that she was interrupting something important. Her hands fiddled with a packet she was holding, uncertain, before she held it out to her.

“Here.”

Leia frowned as she accepted it, surprised by the weight of it.

“What is it?” she asked, even as she began to open it.

“Your promotion packet.”

Leia froze at that, in the middle of upending the packet.  A rank plaque fell out into her open hand, plopping heavily and drawing her attention downward, mute shock written all over her face.  Hera let out a faint laugh at her reaction, drawing her attention back to her.

“We had a lot of new recruits come in while you were gone; pilots that need strong leaders,” she explained, her expression softening.  “You’re the best we have, Leia, and I know you can handle the responsibility.”

Leia swallowed hard, holding up the plaque, noting dimly the blocks had her marked as a commander.

“I haven’t earned this,” she tried to protest.  Hera raised both eyebrows, resting her hands on her hips.

“Blowing up the Death Star?  Taking down Vader when no one else could?”

“That…”

Leia felt the protest die before she could get it out, staring down at the rank plaque again.  It felt like too much, too much for what she felt was so little done. At the same time, she knew she had to seize this opportunity; it would put her in direct opposition with her family, but also grant her the opportunity to work with them as well.

She let out a breath, before closing her hand around it.  Hera smiled broadly at that, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Congratulations, Commander Organa.”

Leia pursed her lips at that; that sounded… wrong,  _ very  _ wrong, in ways she hated to admit to.  But…

“General,” she began slowly, the uncertainty and difficulty she was having with this choice written all over her face, “I may have abdicated the throne, but I am still a child of Alderaan.  In that respect, so visibly dragging the name of her last rulers through active battle would do a disservice to the peace they wished for, and advocated for until the final days.”

She let out a shaky breath, regretting nothing she did as their child, loving Bail and Breha as her father and mother as she made this choice.

“Out of respect, I wish to set aside their name, and take back the name of my birth family.”

Leia met Hera’s gaze, conveying how serious she was about this choice, despite the dangers it presented as well.  Still, Hera seemed to understand, a sad look in her eyes as she accepted the gravity of her choice.

“Understood, Commander Skywalker.”

~.oOOo.~

Exhaustion crept through Luke’s bones as he sunk down into his seat on the shuttle, the gravity of everything he experienced and learned in the last few hours weighing heavily on him.  DV-2 booped softly as he locked himself down next to him, magnetic clamps on his legs clinging to the floor as they took off from the  _ Executor.   _ He reached over to the little droid, resting a hand on his head like a pet, trying desperately not to think, but his mind refused to listen to what he wanted.

He knew why the Emperor had told him all that; he knew it was to appeal to how much he loved and cared for his family.  As much as he hated to admit it, it  _ almost  _ worked.  If he had not already seen how needlessly cruel the man was, had not been manipulated by him himself, he may well have been more susceptible to it, and it only made him  _ despise  _ the man even more.  At the same time, he also found himself pitying him; how removed from humanity did one have to be to think that giving rise to a person made them and everyone that came from them their  _ property? _

The familiar tug of the ship going into hyperspace came a moment later, and his father emerged from the cockpit, silently sitting across from him.  It was likely easy for him to sense his conflicting thoughts, but he said nothing, the cabin filled only with the rhythmic sound of his breath mask.

“He told me,” Luke finally said softly after a long moment.  He did not need to have a bond with his father to know he knew what he was referring to; even his breathing sounded like it stuttered, not to mention what his emotions were doing.  It took a moment for them to finally settle on  _ rage,  _ and Luke could not help but smile softly at that.

He reached up, undoing his flight harness, before extending his hands out to his father.  Gently, he pressed them to the sides of his helmet, leaning forward until his brow touched the bow of it, like their foreheads would touch if the breathing assembly was not in the way.

“He’s not your father.”

Vader froze at that, and Luke stared into the eyes of his mask, knowing he was meeting his father’s shocked gaze.

“Not like you’re my father,” he added softly, and he knew he understood the distinction.

They were both born from love, the difference being that his father only had Grandma Shmi’s love when he was born, while he had the love of both his parents.   _ That love  _ was what mattered more than anything else, not who was involved in where they came from.  He could even feel the tension in his father’s body ease as he processed his words, leaning back and pulling Luke with him.  His arms came around him, hugging him tightly, his fiercely protective  _ love _ wrapping around him.

“I love you, my son.”

Luke smiled, struggling against happy tears.

“I love you too, father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone; thank you for reading this far! As you can see, this is the end of the first big climax of the story, but there's more still to tell. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to keep everything in one story, or spread it out across multiple entries. So keep watch on this space; there may be more coming.


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